The Crimson Rose
by Csillan.Rose
Summary: The Phantom’s story as it was meant to be told… A story of the deception of innocence, of obsession and jealousy, of truth and lies…But most of all, a story of love. Note: WILL be ErikChristine, NO Raoul bashing.
1. The Boy and the Scarf

(A/N: Hello everyone! My name is Hilary (Some of you already know this), and this is my second phanfic on these boards. Thank you, everyone who came over from my last phic. I hope I don't disappoint you. And yes, this story IS E/C. Would I write anything else?

Complete Summary: Did you ever feel while reading Leroux's "The Phantom of the Opera," or watching the musical or movie that a part of the story was missing? That's because it was…

The Phantom's story as it was meant to be told… A story of the deception of innocence, of obsession and jealousy, of truth and lies…

But most of all, a story of love.

Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me. They all belong to Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, and Susan Kay.

Lol, now on with the story. Let's see who reviews first to tell me that they hate the fact that Raoul is actually IN this one…)

* * *

**Chapter One: The Boy and the Scarf**

A young girl ran across the sand of the beach. Her fair hair caught in the wind, and blew behind her like a proud golden flag. She laughed joyfully as she ran, her bare feet kicking up clouds of sand.

Raoul de Chagny, only nine years old at the time, smiled after the girl, wishing he could run out there with her. Just a glance at his brother, Philippe, told him that this wasn't an option. Raoul sighed, pouting a little bit. Sometimes he wished that he was a commoner, too. At times like these, he secretly detested his family's title.

For a long while he watched the girl as his father and older brother conversed with another noble man on some subject or another. His two sisters were back at the house with their maids, but Philippe had insisted on bringing Raoul along to "learn the family business." Raoul wasn't really interested in what they were talking about, and he got bored easily.

The girl ran around on the beach. She appeared to be singing something cheerfully as she skipped. The man who was with her, (who, by his looks, was her father) was carrying a violin case under his arm and laughing as the girl ran in circles around him.

Suddenly a brisk little breeze picked up and blew the little girl's red scarf from around her neck. It floated on the wind and landed in the water about twenty yards away from Raoul.

The girl cried out and started to run after it, but Raoul was faster. Without a second thought he fled from his brother's side and plunged into the freezing water.

"Raoul!" Philippe turned and attempted to grab his brother, but stopped at the water line, not wanting to get wet.

Raoul, now soaked from head to toe, swam out to where the scarf was gently bobbing up and down on the waves. He stretched his hand out and grabbed it, then swam back to the shore.

The little girl was waiting for him on the coastline, grinning. He handed her the sopping wet scarf, shivering all over. She burst into giggles.

Her father hurried over to ask if he was alright, and Raoul smiled sheepishly at him. When Raoul's father came over, however, the smile quickly vanished, replaced by a deep blush.

"Raoul de Chagny, have I taught you _nothing!_ How dare you… Just imagine, my _son_ jumping into the water after a scarf! Weren't you paying the _least_ bit of attention to—"

Philippe laid a hand on his father's shoulder to stop him, and turned his amused gaze to Raoul. Usually his brother was so well behaved… He actually found it a relief that his little sibling had the nerve to jump into the water in these temperatures.

"Nevermind, father, it was a noble act."

His father breathed out a long sigh and turned his gaze to the gentleman before them, who smiled a bit hesitantly and held out a hand.

"Charles Daae. I _am_ sorry about this…"

The count waved it away as if it had never happened, even though the moment before he had been shouting like a lunatic. "Charles Daae, you say? Haven't I heard of you?" He shook the man's hand.

Before Charles could even answer, however, his daughter piped up. "Yes, you probably have! He's only the best violinist in the entire world." She beamed up at her father, who grinned back and ruffled her hair.

"Now, now, let's not get carried away."

"But you _are—"_

"The violinist?" the count suddenly asked, looking at the violin case under the man's arm, "Of course! I remember now…"

The conversation that followed was long and boring—at least to Raoul. Instead, he turned his attention back to the little girl. Suddenly, however, he was shy, and didn't know what to say.

Luckily, the girl wasn't shy in the least. "Hello, I'm Christine." Her gaze dropped down to the dripping scarf in her hand. "Thank you. For saving my scarf, I mean."  
Raoul just nodded, embarrassed.

Christine blinked at him. "You don't get out much, do you?"  
Raoul shook his head this time, and the grin returned to the girl's face. "I can tell. Don't you want to talk at all?"

Raoul nodded, paused at the look on Christine's face, and then said, "Yes."

Christine smirked slightly, "About what?"

Raoul didn't know, so he settled with, "You?"

Apparently this was the right thing to say. Most young girls enjoy talking about themselves, and at this time, Christine was no exception. She told him all about her life with her father, how they traveled from place to place and preformed, and how he always told her she would be a Prima Donna someday.

Raoul found himself wishing he could have visited all of the places she had. He had been confined most of his life in the de Chagny mansion, and only got out occasionally to go to the city.

He didn't have much time to linger on this, though, for Christine immediately began on the stories her father told her before bed. Raoul liked this even more than hearing about her travels, for the stories were full of fun and mischief. Some were about goblins, some about princes and princesses, and some about enchanted animals. Most of them, however, were centered around a curious girl, Little Lotte, and her Angel of Music.

Right away, Christine's eyes misted over as she began stories about the Angel of Music. They were her favorite, and Raoul was almost jealous at the compassion the small girl felt for this Angel. But he quickly pushed that away—she didn't really like the angel, of course. There was no such thing as an Angel of Music, and _any_ young girl would love a fairy-tale person. They were always perfect.

He still sulked a little bit when she said, "I can't wait until the Angel of Music visits me. Father promised that he would! He said if the Angel hadn't visited me by the time he died, he'd personally send him down to me. I believe him, too." Christine sighed.

A moment later, she got up and spun around in the sand, singing, "Little Lotte let her mind wander…Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls…or of goblins or shoes…or of riddles, or frocks… or of chocolates…"

Raoul smiled at her voice. It was immature, maybe, but undeniably pretty. She continued, raising her voice in volume, depth, and feeling.

"No what I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed, and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…" she paused, collapsed on the sand, and closed her eyes. "…The Angel of Music sings songs in my head…"

Raoul ran over to her, shyness forgotten. "Come now, Little Lotte, you can't go around talking about voices in your head." he told her teasingly.

Christine's eyes flew open, and she glared at him. Then, with a grin, she jumped to her feet and ran at him.

Raoul gulped and turned to run, but she was quicker and pushed him down into the sand.

A moment later he came up, coughing. He was covered in sand, which stuck to his wet clothing and hair.

Christine laughed. "What were you saying?"

xxxxx

Charles Daae watched Christine and Raoul fight in the sand with a small smile on his face. "Our children seem to get along pretty well."

The count nodded. "That they do. Perhaps Raoul can visit every once in a while. He doesn't get out much, I'm afraid, so maybe it would do him some good."

Charles nodded. "Christine usually doesn't have children her age to talk to. I think it would do them both some good."

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(A/N: Yes, I know it was short. Sorry about that, but that was where I wanted to end the first chapter...I'll update soon, though. Lol, okay, the contest begins. Who will be the first to review and tell me they hate it? Ready… set… GO!) 

...Hilary...


	2. An Old Friend

(A/N: Gah, I'm so sorry! I wanted to update yesterday, but my mother was on the computer all night and wouldn't let me. SORRY! And for all of you who asked, YES, this IS E/C. Lol, I would never _ever_ write anything else! The beginning skips around a lot, because I'm sure you aren't interested in _everything_ Christine and Raoul did for the first years they knew each other. I know I'm not. …((glares at Raoul))… gosh I hate writing his part! Not in the first chapter, but now he slowly turns into an idiot.

Also for those of you who want to know, Erik will be in… As soon as I can possibly put him in… ((sniffles)) Ewik, I miss you!

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**Chapter Two: An Old Friend**

Over the next two summers, Raoul visited frequently. The two became the best of friends, and then eventually childhood sweethearts. To Raoul's disgust, however, Christine continued to hold a special place in her heart for the "Angel of Music."

He had argued with her many times on this topic. She was still convinced, however, that her Angel would find her one day, and wouldn't listen to him. So eventually Raoul let the subject drop, figuring that she would grow out of it.

But Raoul was getting older, and the older he got, the less time had to visit. Suddenly he stopped coming all together.

Christine was devastated at first, but then slowly got used to it. Her father kept her busy with singing and dancing, and when she got lonely, he told her new stories of the Angel. These became the highlights of Christine's days.

Consequently, when she was fifteen years old, she still believed in an Angel of Music, and nothing anyone could say would sway her. At times she would cry herself to sleep because he hadn't found her yet, and she began to worry that he never would.

When her father found her like this, he was quick to assure her that her angel _would_ find her, he'd make sure of it.

"Remember, child, if he hasn't found you by the time I die, I will send him to you, I promise."

Christine looked up at him and smiled. "I know father. But that won't be for a long, long, time, right?"

"Of course." Charles Daae leaned down and kissed his daughter on the forehead. "Now get some sleep."

Christine shut her eyes and snuggled into bed. "I love you, Papa."

"And I love you, Little Lotte."

Over the next year, Charles' health slowly declined. He said nothing of this to his daughter, however, and acted as though nothing was amiss.

xxxxx

One day, shortly after Christine's sixteenth birthday, an old friend of hers came to call…

The de Chagny carriage pulled up to the house that Raoul had tracked down. He was excited, for he hadn't seen Christine in nearly four years. He still remembered her as the little girl he had been smitten with, and he couldn't wait to see her again.

Raoul jumped out of the carriage as soon as it stopped, a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. He took the steps by twos, and then knocked loudly on the door.

After a moment, a beautiful young woman with long blonde hair and dark blue eyes opened the door and peered out.

"Hello, Monsieur. May I help you?"

Raoul smiled at the young lady. "Yes, Mademoiselle, I believe you can. I'm looking for a Miss Christine Daae… do you know her?"

The girl gave him a suspicious look, and her gaze traveled to the carriage. Suddenly her eyes widened and snapped back to him, and she looked him over again.

Raoul just stood there, confused. He couldn't help but wonder what was wrong with the girl.

Suddenly she opened the door and flung her arms around his neck. "Raoul! Raoul, is it really you! Oh, I've missed you so much!"  
Realization hit him. "Christine? I didn't even recognize you! You've grown into such a beautiful young lady…"

Christine blushed, and he handed her the flowers. "These are for you."  
"Oh, Raoul, they're lovely! Come inside, father will be so happy to see you." She gently took the flowers and opened the door to let him in.

"Papa! Papa, guess who's here?"

After a moment, a man appeared at the top of the steps and looked down at his daughter. "Is it the duke? He's late again, and I can't wait all day—Oh!" There was a pause, and the man smiled. "Raoul, is that you?"  
"It is indeed."

"So Philippe finally let you out of his clutches?" Charles asked as he descended the stairs to where the Christine and Raoul stood, hand in hand.

It was Raoul's turn to blush. "Well… well I…not exactly, I mean…"

Charles grinned. "You snuck out, did you?"

Raoul didn't meet his gaze, and couldn't answer.

"Very well, just as long as you don't get in too much trouble for it. I wouldn't want the count or your brother to be upset with me—"

Raoul blinked at him for a moment, confused. Then his eyes widened. "Oh, no, sir. My father died last year. Philippe owns the title now."

Charles frowned thoughtfully. "Is that so?" He sighed. "Your father was a good man, Raoul. I am sorry to hear it."

"Philippe lets me and my sisters stay at home, though. Did you know that my sisters are getting married in a few weeks? On the same day, too. They do everything together, and I guess they decided that they wanted to celebrate that special day together as well."

Charles smiled again. "Tell them they have my best wishes. Raoul… may I talk to you for a moment? Alone?"

Christine frowned. "Papa, what—"

"Of course, sir."

Raoul followed Charles through the great double doors to the parlor, where he pulled up a seat for him.

"Raoul, I was just wondering… and I didn't want to upset Christine…"

Raoul frowned. "What is it, Monsieur?"

Charles sighed deeply. "Do you know where I can send my daughter, where she can get a good education in music?"

"She learns fine from you, I don't see why she would need to go somewhere else…"

"Nevermind that, right now."

Raoul thought for a moment, then shrugged. "I suppose there's always the Paris Opera House. It has a great program for singers and dancers."

Charles smiled thoughtfully. "I think…I think that may work. I'll look up on it."

Raoul nodded, glad to be of help. "But why would you send her away, sir? She is very happy here, is she not?"

Charles looked up and met his gaze. "I will not live forever, Raoul. When I am gone, I want to make sure she is in good hands."

"But Monsieur, you will live for a great deal of time yet! There isn't a need to plan for after your death so soon."

Charles sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Maybe that is so… but maybe not. I don't want her to be left alone in the world."

"She has me." Raoul said softly.

Charles looked up at him, his gaze surprisingly sharp. "Yes…but for how long? When will you visit next, Monsieur le Comte?"

Raoul stared at him, shocked at this man's words. Charles Daae was usually soft-spoken and gentle, and it astonished him that he could say something like that. "I…I don't know…I am sorry, have I done something wrong?"

He was more than a little bit hurt at Charles's harsh words.

Charles ran a hand through his hair, upset at himself for his response. "Of course not, Raoul. I am sorry… I just worry, that's all. She's my little girl, and I don't know what she'll do when I'm gone. She is still so young in many ways…"

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in, Christine. I know you've been listening at the door, which is why I picked the sound-proof room."

Christine slipped inside, her cheeks tinged a faint pink. "What were you talking about, Papa?"

"Nothing of immediate importance. Christine, dear, I have to go work on something. Seeing as the Duke appeared to have forgotten about his appointment, I'm going to work on paperwork. I'll be in my office if you need me."

Christine nodded, and Charles Daae got up and left the room.

Christine turned to Raoul, and took his hands. "Come, Raoul, we have so much to catch up on! What have you been doing lately?"

xxxxx

Christine was disappointed to learn that she didn't like Raoul nearly as much as she used to. He had changed so much! It seemed that he cared more and more about business and money now, and not the things he used to enjoy. Every time she tried to bring up the old stories, he got an annoyed look on his face and told her not to speak so childishly.

Raoul, in turn, was upset that this beautiful young woman still believed in fairy tales. He put up with it for a bit, but as soon as she started on that old topic—The Angel of Music—he stopped her. Right now, he decided, was not a good time for bringing up that particular story. He couldn't believe it, but it actually at the moment annoyed him beyond all reason.

Christine pressed the topic, however. She wanted to discuss the Angel with someone so badly—she was worried still that she had offended him in some way, and he had decided not to come to her.

Raoul was insanely—and, even he admitted, foolishly—jealous over her obsession with this topic, and suddenly he burst out, "There _is_ no Angel of Music!"

Christine stopped and stared at him, the hurt showing clearly in her eyes. Raoul immediately regretted saying that, but there was no taking back his words now.

"You…You don't really think that, do you?" She asked him, and he found it hard to meet her eyes. They were wide, surprised, and confused. How could her childhood friend turn against her like that?

"I…" Raoul looked up at her, preparing to tell her that yes, he did indeed believe that, and that the Angel of Music was a foolish children's tale made up to put young girls to sleep, but he found he couldn't. "Of course I don't, Christine, forgive me."

Christine nodded, but for the rest of the day, their conversation was polite and distant.

When Raoul left that day, he decided he wouldn't come back for a while. At least, not until Christine had such foolish notions out of her head.

xxxxx

Charles watched the de Chagny carriage pull out of the driveway, and sighed. He could guess what had happened, for he knew how different the two were now.

Raoul had grown up quite a lot since he had last visited, and had expected Christine to be as sophisticated as he was.

Christine, however, had remained the innocent girl she always had been.

Charles came out from his office after Christine had gone in her room, and found the Vicomte's flowers in the waste can.

He sighed, then plucked them out and set them in a vase. Christine would eventually come around, but until then, he decided to leave her to her own devices.

* * *

(A/N: There, that chapter was a little longer. Sorry for the shortness of the first one, and for the delay of this one. Hopefully I'll be able to update tomorrow before I leave for Pittsburgh!)

...Hilary...


	3. The Death of a Loved One

(A/N: Thank you for all of the reviews! I love you guys This chapter is a

little bit sad, just to warn you all. I didn't mean to make Raoul too much of a

jerk, kiss-of-cuteness, he just doesn't understand. I'm not going to be one of

those Raoul-bashers. I'm going to make him as in-character as I can. But this is

going to be E/C.

Thank you again everyone!

Chapter Three: The Death of a Loved One

-Three months later-

Charles Daae woke up that morning and couldn't get out of bed. He had been

dreading this- this was the day he had to let Christine know he wouldn't always

be there for her.

He reached over to the bedside table, and rang the bell he found there. He

hardly ever used the bell—the maid would know something was wrong right away.

When the maid, Annette, entered, Charles told her to go get Christine. She went

considerably white as she saw his condition, but nodded and ran from the room.

Five minutes later, Annette returned with Christine right behind her.

Christine ran to her father's side immediately. "Papa! Papa, what is it? What's

wrong?"

Charles smiled at his daughter and ran a shaky hand through her curls.

"Christine," he began softly, "I've been…ill…for a while now."

Her lovely blue eyes widened. "We'll get a doctor at once! Papa, don't worry,

you'll get better soon—"

"No." Charles sighed as his daughter looked at him, confused. She didn't

understand yet. "Christine…a doctor can't help me."

Christine frowned. "Then what can?"

"Nothing can, child." Charles told her gently. "I'm dying."

There was a long pause as she processed this information.

"No! No, Papa, you can't be dying! You can't! I'll go and get the doctor, and he

can tell you! Then we'll give you medicine, and you'll get better. You'll be up

and well again before you know it."

Charles smiled sadly up at her. "No child, no."

Christine whirled around to look at Annette. "Tell him!" She cried frantically.

"Tell him he's not…not…"

Annette shook her head, eyes glassy, and Christine burst into tears.

"No! No Papa, please! Stop teasing me, it's not funny!"

"Dearest, I would never make fun of you. Now, go and fetch me my violin. I want

to play it for as long as I can."

Christine, tears streaming down her face, fled from the room. Annette blew her

nose and then followed her out.

Charles closed his eyes until he heard Christine's footsteps returning down the

hallway.

When he opened them again, she was standing in the doorway, his violin clutched

in her white hands. She quickly crossed the room and handed the violin to him,

then sat down beside him.

Charles pushed himself up into a sitting position and held the violin up to his

chin. Softly, he began to play.

Charles played the violin all day, and late into the night. Christine stayed

beside him, and wouldn't even leave when Annette tried to lure her out with

lunch.

Finally, around midnight, Charles stopped. He didn't put the violin down,

however. Instead, he turned to his daughter. "Christine," he whispered, "I can

play you one last song. Which do you want me to do?"

Christine knew the name of every song her father had ever composed, and she

loved them all. She didn't hesitate to tell him which to play though, for this

one was by far her favorite. "Angel of Music." She said at once.

Charles Daae smiled and nodded. "I knew you would pick that one."

Then he began to play it, doing the best he'd ever done on any song in his

entire life. Christine listened and cried, knowing it would probably be the last

song her father ever played.

xxxxx

That was the last day Charles was awake. The next three days he slept, consumed

by fever. Christine stayed at his side, hoping and praying that he would wake

up. He had to—what would she do without him?

On the forth day, what she prayed would happen did. Around noon, Charles opened

his eyes and seemed to know where he was. The fever was anything but broken,

however.

"Christine," he croaked out, "Come here, child."

Christine sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed his hair from his fevered

forehead. "What is it, Papa?"

"I'm…not going to live much longer…" he coughed violently, and then looked up at

her when he recovered.

"I want you to have this." He used all of his strength to lean over and pick up

his violin. Then he gently handed it to her.

Christine took it, crying once more. "Papa…"

"Hush, child. Now, when I am gone, I've made arrangements for you to go to the

new Paris Opera House. I think you'll be happy there." He smiled, "My little

Prima Donna."

Christine shook her head frantically, wiping tears away from her cheeks. "I'm

never going to sing again!" she cried out.

"Shhh, of course you will. It's your love and your talent. I never gave up my

violin, no matter what happened. Besides, you wouldn't want to upset your Angel,

would you?"

Christine sniffed, then said quietly, "There is no Angel of Music. Raoul was

right."

"No…everyone has an Angel, Christine. Your mother was mine."

Christine stared at him, confused. "What—"

"I promise you that when I am gone, I will make sure your Angel finds you. Just

remember, you are never alone, no matter how lonely you feel. I will always be

with you… here." He placed a hand over her heart.

Christine threw her arms around his neck, her head against his chest. She

listened fearfully to his heartbeat, which grew fainter and fainter.

"I love you, Christine."

Suddenly the sound stopped.

Christine sat in shock for a while. He was gone.

"NO!" she screamed when she regained her senses, "Papa, NO! Please, don't leave

me here! Don't leave me!"

Annette ran into the room, took in the situation, then ran over and grabbed

Christine's shoulders, attempting to pull her from her father's body.

"NO!" Christine gasped out, and clung to him harder. "He can't go! He can't!"

"He's already gone." Annette told her quietly.

"No!" She shouted, struggling to release herself from her maid's grip. "I won't

leave him! He can't leave me! No!"

Annette finally gave up and let go, leaving the girl to cry over her father's

body. Christine sat there and wept, not able to believe that she would never

hear her father's voice again. He would never laugh again. He would never smile

again.

Christine picked her head up at last, after hours of crying. She had run out of

tears. Gently, she stroked her father's cold cheek.

"I love you, Papa…"

(A/N: Sorry it's so short, but I'm in Pittsburgh, and this isn't my computer.

It's my uncle's. Lol, I made it as long as I dared.)

…Hilary…


	4. The Opera Ghost

(A/N: Sorry I took so long to update! As you know, I was in Pittsburgh, and when I got home my mother kept using the computer and wouldn't let me on. So, here's chapter four. ERIK! YAY! Okay, I'm okay…

**ATTENTION: **Anyone who didn't read the book, and for some reason because of the weird incident in the movie, thinks Erik grew up in the Opera House…HA!...He didn't. No, he was the architect for the Opera House. Just thought I'd clear that up before you read any farther.

**Chapter Four: The Opera Ghost**

-Five years before-

A pair of golden eyes peered out of the carriage as it pulled to a stop in front of a huge, new structure… The Paris Opera House.

Their owner smiled slightly and stepped out of the carriage, then tipped the driver and walked inside.

The man with the golden eyes was wearing evening dress, and a long black cape that blew after him as he walked. His face was mostly hidden in the shadow of his fedora, but a gleam of white could be made out on the right side of his face.

A little ballet girl, by the name of Meg Giry, watched curiously as he ascended the stairs. He was tall and graceful, and looked almost as though he was floating.

Suddenly, however, when he reached the top…he vanished.

Meg stared for a moment, rubbed her eyes, then screamed. "GHOST!"

La Sorelli, another older and more experienced ballerina, laughed. "Nonsense! This building is new, there wouldn't be a ghost!"

Meg Giry shivered. "But I heard it's built on top of an old tomb."

La Sorelli snorted, which was most unladylike for her. "Oh, really? And who did you hear that from, your little ballet rat friends?"

Meg tilted her chin up and tried to look dignified. "No, as a matter of fact, I didn't."

The older ballerina frowned. "Who _did_ you hear it from, then?"

"My mother."

La Sorelli blinked, shocked. Meg's mother, Madame Giry, was the ballet instructor. She was precise, sharp, and stern. She certainly wasn't superstitious.

She began to shiver. Maybe Madame Giry wasn't superstitious, but La Sorelli was. If her instructor said this place was built over a tomb, then she believed it.

"Y-you saw a ghost, then?"

"Yes!" Little Giry ran up the stairs and stood on the landing. "He was right here! A man dressed all in fancy black clothing and a top hat. And then, he swished his cloak, and was gone!"

La Sorelli shuddered. "Tell me if you see him… it… again."

Meg nodded, and watched as the older ballerina ran into the depths of the Opera House to find her lucky rabbit's foot.

xxxxx

-Present Day-

Christine Daae kept her head down as she entered the Paris Opera House. She felt shy and alone, which was very unlike her. She hadn't spoken much since her father died, and was only a wraith of the talkative, cheerful young girl she had been.

Christine clutched at the few belongings she had left. Among them were a few changes of clothing, some letters from her father when he had been away, a few gold coins, and, of course, her father's violin.

As she entered, a strict-looking woman dressed all in black walked up to meet her. The lady had pitch black hair that was pulled up into a neat bun on top of her head. Her clothing was modest and well made, and she carried a polished staff with a little metal end.

She was shortly followed by a gaggle of girls. They were all various ages, and were all dressed in tights and tutus.

They began to whisper and mutter when they saw her, and Christine flinched as if being struck.

The lady in black, without even turning to face the girls, banged the staff on the ground, creating a loud clanking noise. "Silence!"

The girls stopped talking and stood up straight.

The lady smiled at Christine. "Hello, you must be our new arrival, Christine Daae. I am Madame Giry."

Christine shook Madame Giry's hand.

"Pleased to meet you, madam." she said softly

"As am I. I am the ballet instructor, and these are my ballerinas. You are to be part of the chorus, correct?"

Christine nodded, keeping her eyes glued to the ground. She could feel the other girls' eyes on her, scrutinizing.

"My daughter will take you to your new room, dear. You may meet us for our rehearsal in fifteen minutes in the theater."

Christine nodded again, and Madame Giry and the girls walked passed her. Now only one was left. She was a pretty little thing, with bright eyes and long black hair tied back out of her face. She bore a striking resemblance to Madame Giry, except that her features were softer and friendlier. She also had fuller lips and a smaller forehead.

"Hello! I'm Meg Giry. Maman says you came here because your father died. Is that true?"

Christine winced and nodded again, not trusting herself to talk.

Meg paused for a moment, then realized she had probably been rude and blunt. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just was curious…I'm sorry…"

Christine shook her head. "It's okay." she said faintly.

Meg sighed in relief. "Sometimes I say things before I think them through first. Mother always said I was bad at that, but I suppose I might get better over time. I'm glad you forgive me. We could be friends! Would you like that?"

Christine smiled a little bit. "Yes, I would." Her first new friend. It was nice to have someone to talk to that was her age, for once. Well, listen to, anyway. Meg Giry told her all of the newest gossip, and what she thought was true and what wasn't.

When they had almost reached Christine's new room, Meg said, "And then, of course, there's our resident ghost."

She looked proud of this fact.

"Ghost?" Christine asked.

"Yes… He takes the form of a man all in evening dress. Sometimes, when he's pleased with a performance, he leaves people a single red rose. You can always tell when it's from him, because it's tied with a black ribbon."

Christine tried not to laugh. Quite obviously, someone had tricked the girl. "And have you ever seen this ghost?"

"Of course! I was the first one to ever see him."

Somehow, this didn't surprise her.

"At every opening performance, he sits in Box Five. It's reserved for him. My mother helps him, too."

Christine turned to Meg, shocked. "Your mother believes in this ghost?"  
"Well, yes! She's even talked to him. She says he's actually very nice. He leaves her things in Box Five. Guess what? He also gets a salary. The managers leave him one—20,000 francs a month! I've never even seen that much money in my entire life!"

Christine was going to point out that she wasn't that old yet, so her entire life wasn't that long, but she didn't.

"I heard he lives under the Opera House, in the catacombs there. Maybe he was buried there!"  
Christine wanted to laugh at this, but didn't. She didn't want to offend Meg, who seemed to believe so religiously in this ghost.

They finally reached Christine's new room, and Meg unlocked the door for her and handed her the key.

"Meet us downstairs, then! You have ten minutes… do you think you can find the way back by yourself?"

Christine nodded, and Meg left.

The new chorus girl turned to her new bed and placed her belongings on it, gently setting the violin on top.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian…grant to me your glory…" she sang softly to herself, almost not realizing she was singing. Tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh, papa! I miss you so much."

Suddenly she shivered, feeling as though she was being watched. She turned and abruptly walked out after Meg.

Unseen, a pair of golden eyes followed her progress, the owner still pondering her sweet voice.

(A/N: Sorry again about how long this took, and how short it is! Please R + R, I would love to know what you think so far!)

...Hilary...


	5. I am Your Angel

(A/N: Lol, I've had a lot of complaints that this one wasn't moving as fast as the other one did, (meaning that I don't update enough) I'm really sorry about that, and I hope that I'll be able to update more when the musical is over. Also, this week my mother had a _lot_ of reports, so I was lucky to update as much as I did.

Thank you for all of your reviews everyone! Lol, you all seem to be pretty happy that Erik is finally in it. (Finally! Um…it was only chapter 4! Lol, by the way some of you went on, you'd think you had to wait an eternity! ((sings)) An eternity of _this_ before your eyes… ((cough)) um, sorry about that… On with the story!)

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**Chapter Five: I am Your Angel**

Rehearsals were only a little bit confusing for Christine. Apparently, they weren't putting on any show yet, but would be beginning the new production of Hannibal in anywhere from a few days to a week.

Christine sang softly in the chorus as they practiced, not wanting anyone to hear her voice. She knew that she was pretty good, but she didn't think she was half as good as anyone else there. Besides, she had promised herself she wasn't going to sing again.

After practice, Christine wandered around the Opera House. She couldn't shake off the feeling that she was being watched, which frightened her. To calm herself, she began to sing again.

At first, she began quietly, not wanting to draw attention to herself. Then, when she realized that no one else was around, she grew gradually louder. All thoughts of not singing again were gone from her mind, and she put all of her feeling into her song as she sang. It was a sad song—a lonely song.

She suddenly stopped as she realized she had reached her new room. Relieved that she wasn't lost, but slightly disappointed she couldn't sing any longer, (she was certain that someone would hear her), Christine went inside and sat down on her bed.

It was late afternoon, almost evening, and she was already bored. After a little while, she stood up and decided to go find Meg.

xxxxx

Erik watched as the new chorus girl, Christine, finished practice and walked by herself down the hallway. Suddenly she began to sing again.

Erik followed her down the hallway through a series of passageways that ran parallel to the one she was in. He listened as she grew more and more confident with her voice, and lost himself in it. It was so clear and pure, and she put so much feeling into it. Erik, who had nothing else to do, decided to keep following her even after she finished singing.

He took note of the room she was staying in, and then followed her as she left to find her friend.

xxxxx

"Meg?" Christine nearly ran straight into her new friend in the hallway.

"Christine! How do you like the Opera House so far?"

Christine smiled. "It's really nice…but I have nothing to do now."

Meg grinned. "Great! Then we can talk."

"Why were you running?" Christine asked at once, for, indeed, they had met on a crossway and Meg had been sprinting.

"One of the other girls said she saw the ghost! I wanted to see him again, too."

Christine bit back a laugh. "And did you find him?"  
"No. I think that she made it up."

'_I think that you made the whole thing up...'_ Christine thought to herself, but said nothing.

Meg changed the subject. "Anyway, I've told you so much about myself, I'm sure it's getting boring. You haven't told me _anything_ about you! Why don't you tell me about your home? Your friends and family?"

Christine bit her lip, then shrugged. She had to face it sometime…

"I didn't really have one home. My…my father liked to travel. We went all over the place, and saw all different kinds of people. He used to play the violin while I sang with him." she sighed. "I miss him."

Meg placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know the feeling. My father died, too. I was a lot younger than you were, though, so maybe it didn't hurt as much. I don't have many memories of him. The only one I can recall in vivid detail is me sitting on his lap at night. I wouldn't go to sleep, because I was having nightmares. He tried to sing me to sleep," Meg giggled, "But he wasn't very good. His voice kept breaking, and I started laughing at him. After that, my nightmares went away."

Christine smiled. "My father used to tell me stories to make me go to sleep. He had a vast imagination, and he created all sorts of little fairy tales about curious little girls and the trouble they got into. My favorite character from his stories was Little Lotte, and the Angel of Music." Christine paused. "The Angel isn't a made-up character though. He's real."  
Meg raised an eyebrow, a little grin on her face. "Oh he is, is he?"

"Yes, he is. Father promised me that when…when he was gone…" She paused, and Meg motioned for her to continue. "He promised me that he would send me the Angel of Music. But he hasn't." Christine added bitterly. "Do you know why?"

Meg frowned and shook her head.

Christine wiped the tears away and said, "Because I was wrong. I lied. I know better now…The Angel of Music _isn't_ real, after all. He was one of father's characters too! All of that time, I believed him…I actually believed him! In the months since my father died, I waited patiently for my father to send me comfort…to send me my Angel. But it was all a lie."

Christine turned and ran back up the corridor, not caring where she went, or if she got lost.

"Christine! Wait!"

Meg sprinted after her, but couldn't catch up. Finally she stopped, breathing heavily. She was sorry now that she had brought up the topic. Meg decided to let Christine calm down for a while, and then try to find her later.

xxxxx

Christine may have been able to outrun a ballerina, but she couldn't outrun a Phantom. By the time she had reached her room, (which she had ended up going back to), Erik was already there, waiting for her.  
He felt sorry for the girl, who had apparently had all of her hopes and dreams dashed. He felt strangely connected to her because of this, and, against all of his better sense, decided he wanted to help her.

He watched through the mirror as she collapsed on her bed and cried. For a moment he was silent, not knowing what to do to help. Then, all of a sudden, it came to him…

"_Christine…"_

xxxxx

Christine looked up, thinking she'd heard her name. After a moment, she pushed it aside and buried her head in her arms again.

"_Christine…"_

Christine didn't move. She knew she had heard it this time—A beautiful, alluring male voice, calling her name.

"Who's there?" she asked shakily, finally getting up and looking around. There was no one in her room, unless they were hiding. "Where are you?"

"_I am everywhere and nowhere."_

The voice seemed to come from one place, then another. She couldn't decide where it was coming from, so she gave up.

Suddenly something in her memory clicked. She hesitated, knowing she was just putting herself out to be hurt yet again. "Are…are you…"

"_I am the Angel of Music."_

Christine's heart fluttered. Her Angel! Could it be! Her father had promised her… maybe it was true after all…

"Angel? My father…he sent you?"

"_Yes, Christine."_

Christine couldn't believe it at first. She had finally gotten her Angel! Was she dreaming? She pinched herself, and decided that she was definitely awake.

xxxxx

Erik wasn't sure what to do next. What was the Angel of Music supposed to do? How was he to act?

He finally decided that, from what he heard, the Angel was some sort of tutor.

"_With me helping you, your voice will soar to new heights. You will be the Prima Donna…and more."_

Christine was smiling now. "My father said I would be…"

"_Your father was right. Christine, child, I must go now. I will come back tomorrow evening at this time with some music for you to practice. Don't be late."_

"I won't be, Angel!" Christine breathed, "I won't be!"

* * *

(A/N: What is it about chapters like this that I despise? I really don't like how I wrote this…lol. Oh well, I don't think I can write it any better. Hopefully the next chapter will be okay.)

...Hilary...


	6. Angel of Music

(A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks for all of your awesome reviews! I hope this chapter is a little bit better than the last one, anyway. I hope you all like it!)

* * *

**Chapter Six: Angel of Music**

The next day, Christine waited faithfully in her room for her Angel. She was plagued by many doubts, not sure if someone was just playing a trick on her.

When the clock struck the hour he was supposed to arrive, her heart beat frantically. This was it… this was the moment she'd find out whether her Angel was real or not.

Christine waited… and waited… and waited.

No one came. She didn't hear anything.

Christine wanted to break down into tears. She'd been tricked… again! For a moment she entertained the thought that her Angel might be late, but then she quickly pushed it aside. Angels were never late.

She got up from where she had been sitting on her bed and made her way over to the door. She couldn't wait here a moment longer.

xxxxx

Erik rushed up the passageways in the dark, forgetting to light a torch. This didn't bother him, however—he could see perfectly well in the dark.

He cursed himself as he ran, the only time in his life he'd ever been angry at getting caught up in his music for too long. How could he? How could he betray the poor child, who had only wanted comfort? How _dare_ he!

Erik only hoped he wasn't too late to catch her.

By the time he made it to her mirror, she was at the door, ready to leave.

_No! _He couldn't let her. He couldn't let her believe that her Angel had forsaken her.

"_Christine!"_

xxxxx

She had just taken a step out of the door when she heard it—The beautiful voice from the night before. It whispered her name, the voice so faint that she could barely hear it. For some reason, it sounded tired.

"Angel?" Christine automatically bit her tongue. If someone was playing a prank on her, then this was no angel.

"_I am here, Christine."_

"You're late." she informed him, a little bit of the bitterness creeping into her voice.

There was a long, guilty silence.

"_I know. I am sorry. I was…busy. Forgive me."_

Christine hesitated. If this really _was_ an angel, he might get irritated at her asking… but she had to know. "Busy doing what?"

"_Composing."_

"Oh?"

"_Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my music, I forget what's going on in the outside world. Please forgive me, Christine, the fault is mine."_

Christine blushed. Just imagine! _Her_ reprimanding an _Angel_. The Angel of Music, too! She brushed aside all thoughts of someone tricking her, once more believing fully in her father and in the Angel of Music.

"_Christine? I came by this morning and dropped your music off."_

Christine frowned. "But I didn't get—"

"_It's in the bottom drawer of your desk."_

Christine knelt down and opened the drawer he had indicated, then pulled out a thick script. On the front in flowing script was proclaimed—_"Hannibal."_

"Oh!" Christine gasped, "It's the opera we're going to perform here, isn't it?"

"_Yes, it is. And you shall have the lead role."_

Christine's eyes widened in joy.

xxxxx

Erik felt immediately guilty for telling Christine she would secure the main role. Quite obviously, the managers were going to assign the role to La Carlotta…

Just the thought of that horrible woman made him wince.

Indeed, she _could_ sing, but her voice was loud and occasionally screechy, and even sometimes off-key.

"_Christine, please open up the script to page fifty-nine. There you will find the piece, "Think of Me." I want you to try and sing it."_

He could see her frown through the mirror. "But Angel, I haven't sung it before, and—"

"_I shall accompany you on violin." _he reassured her instantly. He just _needed_ to know if she could sing it. He was walking on the edge of a sword, here… promising her the main role though he was not even sure if she could sing it.

He quickly snapped open the violin case he had grabbed at the last moment and removed the instrument.

"_I shall give you a few moments to look over the piece. Tell me when you are ready."_

xxxxx

Christine skimmed over the piece, slowing down at the hard parts to make sure she knew what to do. After a minute or two, she finished and looked up. "I am ready, Angel."

Automatically, the violin started up with the introduction. Christine shuddered at the sound—it reminded her so much of her father. She couldn't restrain a single tear as she suddenly had the memory of her father leaning over her as she went to sleep at night, playing the violin softly. He had always been there to protect her…

…But now, when he was gone, the Angel would protect her.

She was brought back to earth as she heard her entry, and began singing.

xxxxx

Erik stumbled for a moment and almost stopped playing to hear Christine's voice better. She had the voice of an angel! He almost laughed at the irony of that… here she thought _he_ was an angel! But no… he was truly a demon.

Erik frowned as he thought of Christine's reaction if she knew what he _really_ was… a monster.

To the rest of the world, he was a monster…

But to Christine, he was an angel…an Angel of Music.

He smiled softly, something he did rarely.

After a moment, Christine's voice broke his thoughts. "Angel? Angel, is there something wrong? You've stopped playing."

Erik cursed quietly to himself for causing her to stop singing.

"_Of course there is nothing wrong, Ma ch_é_rie, that is all I needed to hear. You have a lovely voice."_

Christine blushed. "Thank you, Angel."

"_You have a very pretty pitch, but you need to put more feeling into your voice. Christine, I want you to pour your _soul_ into your voice."_

Christine shivered. "I shall try Angel. For you, I shall try."

"_Good. Now, I want you to run a few scales…"_

xxxxx

Over the next few weeks, Christine met faithfully with her Angel at the appropriate hour. Sometimes, she thought that her singing lessons weren't helping her. All he seemed to do at times was criticize her!…how was she learning? But then, gradually, she began to discover that her voice was getting slowly but surely better.

A week ago marked the anniversary of when she had first heard _him_ sing. She shivered in delight as she recalled the memory—he truly was her Angel! That was beyond all doubt, now. His voice freed her soul, and gave her wings!

She found that, as her voice developed, her feelings for her Angel developed as well.

Christine had always had a childish crush on the Angel of Music from her father's tales, but now that she had met the real thing, that feeling grew and flourished.

Christine blushed…These were not feelings a student was supposed to have for her teacher.

As the days went on, she tried to push the emotion aside, convincing herself that they would only make her look foolish. An Angel was a perfect being! They could never, _ever_ fall in love with someone like her.

But yet, she couldn't help but start to view him as a real person—a real man. And even though she was convinced that he couldn't love her, she was falling hopelessly in love with him.

* * *

(A/N: Awww! Lol, sorry, couldn't resist. Please read + review everyone!)

...Hilary...


	7. A Barrier Broken

_(A/N: Ahh, I'm so so so so so sorry I haven't been able to update! It's this stupid school play, I just haven't had the time! Anyway, it will be over next week, and as soon as it is I promise I'll update more often. As of now, you can expect an update either tomorrow (March 5) or Sunday, (March 6). Thank you for your patience!)_

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**Chapter Seven: A Barrier Broken**

Christine was nervous, and rightfully so. Today was the day for auditions for Hannibal. She was terrified that she wouldn't make the main part, and then disappoint her Angel. After all, he had done so much for her, and… and she wanted him to admire her. So far, it seemed, he treated her like a child. Unexplainably, she wanted to prove to him that she was _not_ just some little kid who wanted to be an opera star.

Christine wanted to prove to her Angel that she was more than that. She knew that she was being stupid…she knew deep down that she wanted to impress him so that maybe…just _maybe_…he would love her as much as she already loved him.

Christine practiced the audition piece—Think of Me—tirelessly. She just _had_ to be perfect—for him.

xxxxx

What Christine didn't know was that her "Angel" was already cursing himself for the same reason she was striving to be perfect. He was falling in love with her.

Erik, of course, would never admit this to anyone, let alone himself. Sometimes, though, he would begin to feel lonely in the cold damp darkness that had so long been his home, and he would see her, pushing stray curls behind her ears.

Every time he did this, he would furiously shove the thought from his mind. She was his student, and he forced himself to think of her this way. Certainly she was beautiful—when she smiled, there was a hint of a dimple in her left cheek, and her eyes would light up with holy pureness and innocence. Occasionally her hair would get in her way as she leaned over her music, and she would absent-mindedly push it aside.

When Erik realized how detailed his analysis was of her, he became angry again. One evening, he recalled, he hadn't come to their arranged lesson because he was enraged at himself for being too eager for the lesson for all of the wrong reasons. Christine had been devastated, not knowing what she had done wrong to upset her Angel.

The following evening, Erik lied that he had gotten caught up in his music again. He knew this was a feeble excuse, and was surprised to learn that Christine accepted it. He had felt guilty then…she trusted him too much, and this whole charade was one huge lie.

But his infatuation with her grew every time he met her for her lessons. Each time she sang, each time she smiled, and each time she laughed he fell more and more in love with her.  
Erik was now on dangerous footing, and he knew it. He was treacherously close to becoming obsessed with her.

He tried to pretend he didn't, but he counted the minutes until their next lesson—until the time he'd be able to see her again. Then, for that one blessed hour, he drank in the sight of her, (however much he pretended he didn't), so that he could sustain himself until the next time.

One day when he was particularly unhappy and had nothing to do, considering the fact that he wasn't in the mood to compose, he sat down and painted a portrait of her. Then he promptly hid it away in fear that she'd see it.

Naturally, after that he felt even more stupid than before—of _course_ she wouldn't see it! She didn't even know he _existed_.

These thoughts, however, only led him to wallow once more in self-hatred for tricking her. He didn't deserve her unwavering trust, or her steadfast loyalty.

Erik pledged to himself that, at the very least, he would make this girl a diva…heaven only knew, she deserved it!

xxxxx

Christine sat across from the stage in a chair alongside Meg. She watched as one of the managers walked up before them and announced that they had canceled auditions. Everyone had been assigned parts by Monsieur Reyer, who claimed to know all of their voices well.

Christine's heart automatically sunk as she remembered her practices… She hadn't tried, and she certainly hadn't done well. She recalled now how she had stood at the back of the room and sang softly, so that no one could hear her.

She even remembered how when she had first arrived, she had purposely sung badly the first time that Monsieur Reyer asked her to sing alone. She had done this because, at that first rehearsal, she hadn't wanted to sing, for it reminded her of her father. Christine had sung badly to put M. Reyer off, so that she never would have to sing for him again.

Afterwards, she was too much in her own dream-world to correct the damage she had done. And now it was too late…she would have to pay the price for her lack of caring.

At first, Christine didn't even want to check the list of characters that the managers nailed up. She already knew she was in the chorus.

Then a terrifying thought struck her—what if she hadn't even made the _chorus_! Christine hurried up behind the rush of people the check the list herself.

Beside the name of the lead in swirling black letters was the name: La Carlotta.

Christine didn't really know Carlotta too well, (it wasn't as if the diva would stop and talk to her in the hallways), and had only seen her once or twice.

Carlotta was a slightly chubby woman in her mid-thirties. She was known for her astounding vocal range.

Christine had only heard La Carlotta sing once, and once was enough. It was completely true; the diva had an amazing range… the sound of her voice, however, made Christine wince. It was loud and penetrating, and wavered too much for her taste. Everything about Carlotta was exaggeratingly overdone…everything from her voice, to what she wore, to how she spoke. (The Prima Donna was Spanish, and made no attempt to hide her accent.)

Christine pulled her thoughts back to the list, and scanned down the page. With giddy relief, she found her name under the chorus. She supposed she shouldn't have worried—after a thorough inspection of the list, she found that everyone in the Opera House got a part, whether they were good or not.

'_Now comes the hard part,'_ Christine thought, _'Telling my Angel.'_

Of course, her Angel probably already knew. After all, he _was_ a divine being.

xxxxx

Erik wasn't surprised as he watched from the shadows of Box Five as Messieurs Debienne and Poligny announced that they wouldn't be holding auditions. No, he wasn't surprised, but he was still angry. How _dare_ they! They hadn't even given her a chance!

He raved silently to himself for a few moments, and then regained his composure. Perhaps it was better this way. After all, now all he had to do was get rid of Carlotta. He would continue giving Christine her lessons, and helping her practice the lead role, and then he would make sure that Carlotta got sick on the night she had to perform.

The managers wouldn't know what struck them. Well…of course, they _would_ know what happened. Or, at least they could guess. They would at _least_ know that the Opera Ghost had something to do with it, he would be sure of that!

xxxxx

The moment Christine stepped into her dressing room, the heavenly voice addressed her.

"_Christine, there is no need to tell me what happened. I already know. Do not fret yet, this game isn't over. You shall still have the lead on opening night, so I expect you to practice even harder than the sad excuse for the lady who got the part."_

Christine was slightly shocked at the obvious irritation in her Angel's voice. She knew that he wasn't irritated with _her_, but it still frightened her quite a bit.

He seemed to realize this, for he quickly added in a soothing voice, _"My dear, I overheard you practicing. There is no doubt in my mind that if there_ had_ been auditions, you would easily have secured the part."_

Christine blushed slightly, pleased to find that he was impressed with her after all. "Thank you, Angel. I did it all for you."

xxxxx

Erik's breath caught as he heard her words. _I did it all for you…_

But of course she hadn't done it all for him. She had done it all for her Angel. He was senselessly disappointed as he realized that, but quickly pushed that emotion aside as well.

_Gosh this girl did things to him…_

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, trying to regain himself. He couldn't…_wouldn't_…let her do this to him!

Erik had finally gotten back to normal when the sound of her voice brought him back down to earth.

"Angel?"

xxxxx

There was a frightening pause, and for a moment Christine thought that her Angel had left. She tried again. "Angel!"

"_I am here, Christine."_

He sounded odd… kind of strained.

"_We will start working on the script…tomorrow. I think you've had enough for one night."_

"But Angel—" she began protestingly, not wanting him to leave.

"_Yes, Christine?"_

"I…I…" _she was doing it again! Arguing with her Angel!_ Quickly, Christine replaced her argument with a long-pondered question. "I was just wondering… Do you have a name?"

There was another pause, and Christine thought he wasn't going to answer. Then, when she was about to give up…

"_Yes."_

She waited with baited breath.

"_Yes…I have a name."_

"M-may…may I—"

"_It is Erik. My name is Erik."_

Christine's face broke into a grateful smile.

"_Goodnight, Christine. Sleep well."_

"Goodnight Ang…Goodnight, Erik."

xxxxx

Erik shivered as she said his name, and then hurried off into the darkness. _Why had he done it? Why had he been so foolish as to give her his real name?_

He had broken down one of the last barriers he had left between him and his growing obsession for her. For now, she wouldn't be addressing her Angel. Now she would be addressing _him._ Because of this idiocy, he might even begin to think that Christine would like him for _him, _and not simply because it was her Angel. Which, of course, was impossible.

Wasn't it?

* * *

_(A/N: There, that one was pretty long. I'm getting really mixed reviews for this story. Some people really like it, and some people think there's no plot. Well, there is a plot…It's a re-telling, but I'm adding bits and pieces that weren't in it before. So far, nothing has been added except more detail and emotion. But I'm only on the seventh chapter! Anyway, thank you for your opinions! They're appreciated.)_

**…Hilary…**


	8. A Letter

(A/N: Wow, guys, I'm really sorry about not updating for so long. The play completely ate up all of my free time this past week. I got home at 10:00 or later every day, and the practices were all about five hours or longer. Anyway, the musical is over now, so I _will _be updating regularly again! Yay!)

* * *

**Chapter Eight:** **A Letter**

Rehearsals for Hannibal began the very next day.

Christine found out almost immediately that her practices started early in the morning, and ended late at night. By the time she returned to her dressing room, her body was thoroughly spent.

"Only six hours of sleep, and then the whole lousy thing will begin again." She grumbled to her newest friend as she departed at the door.

Meg grinned. "Welcome to the Opera House!" Then she winked, spun on her heel, and was gone.

Christine flopped down on her tiny bed, not even bothering to take off her clothes. Hopefully she'd get used to the schedule quickly, but she doubted it. It was going to take a little while until she'd be fully awake.

Suddenly she wondered if her Angel would be upset for missing her lessons for the day. Surely not… after all, she had been at rehearsals. They would have to move the time of her lessons back a few hours. Christine groaned inwardly at the thought of staying up any later.

Those were the last thoughts she had before she was asleep.

xxxxx

Erik watched Christine sleep through the mirror. She looked so sweet and innocent, even though she was exhausted from a hard day's work.

He knew he couldn't wake her up. She deserved to get some sleep this first day, since she wasn't completely used to the harsh schedule of the Opera House. Besides, this at least would put off the moment he had to hear her speak his name again. It was sweet agony—hardly anyone had ever used his name, and those who had had used it out of fear or hate. Christine spoke it with gentle shyness. The problem was, he knew the Erik she referred to was the Angel of Music, not him. She would never know him for who _he_ was, only for what she thought him to be.

Erik paced in the dark hallway, trying to think of a way out of this dilemma. He knew that he was falling for the girl, and he didn't like it. The only thing he could think of to do, however, was to leave her completely, and that would break her heart.

No, he couldn't do that. He knew all too well how it felt to be alone in the world.

Erik cursed silently to himself for the next few minutes, not sure what to do next. Finally, he decided that there was nothing he _could_ do at the moment. He promised himself that he'd keep an eye out for any loophole, though, for he needed to get out of this as soon as possible.

He turned to take one last look at Christine before he left, and frowned.

She was grimacing in her sleep. The bone of her corset was digging into her side, and the heavy stage dress she was wearing was twisted awkwardly around her body.

Erik hesitated for a moment. _Surely it wouldn't matter if he only removed her dress and corset, for her comfort. She'd still have her shift on…it wasn't as if she would be naked, or anything…_

Christine whimpered slightly in her sleep, and Erik made up his mind. Quickly he went to the mirror and started to push it open.

Once again, he froze. What if she woke while he was removing it? What would she do?

He paused a moment longer before also dismissing that from his mind. She was clearly worn-out from the practice, and probably wouldn't even notice.

Besides, if he didn't do anything, she would have a troubled sleep, and wouldn't be fully rested in the morning.

Erik pushed all other doubts from his mind, steeled himself, then pushed the mirror open and stepped into the room.

A shiver went down his spine as he realized that this was the first time he'd been in the same room as Christine, where she could see him. He began to rethink what he was doing, and then cut the thoughts short. He had nothing to worry about. She wouldn't wake.

Quickly and quietly he closed the distance between them, the only sound being his cape rustling gently on the carpet.

When he reached Christine, he was hesitant to actually touch her. Using as little physical contact as possible, and silently thanking himself for wearing gloves, he undid the laces to first her dress, then her corset. He pulled the covers up over her, and trembled at the warmth he could feel through the leather of his gloves.

Erik hurriedly picked up the dress and corset, and stored them back in Christine's closet.

Assured that she was now comfortable, he took a step back towards the mirror.

He knew he shouldn't look back, but he did anyway. Suddenly he found himself captivated by the soft curls that fell across her face.

He wondered what it would feel like to touch those silky locks, and to brush them out of her face.

Without even a second thought, he walked back over to her bedside and carefully removed his right glove. As soon as he had done so, he knew it was stupid. There was no turning back now, though.

Erik cautiously reached down and brushed the curls back behind Christine's ear. They felt as soft as he thought they would.

Christine stirred at his touch, and he jumped back about a foot.

_Idiot!_

Back to his senses, he quickly slunk from the room.

xxxxx

Christine woke the next morning, pondering her strange dreams. She had dreamed that there was a dark figure in the room with her…

Abruptly she realized that she was only in her shift. She couldn't recall taking it off last night, either…

Christine frowned and got out of bed, walking over to the closet. There was her dress for rehearsals, with her corset underneath.

She bit her lip, trying hard to remember when she had taken it off. After a little while, she admitted to herself that she definitely _hadn't. _But who had?

She wondered this as she dressed, then sat down at her desk to brush her hair. She looked in the mirror as she opened the top drawer, reaching blindly for her brush.

Her hand came into contact, instead, with paper.

Christine frowned and peered inside her desk to find an envelope addressed to her, along with a red rose tied with a black ribbon.

She gently took the rose out and laid it carefully on the desk top, then slid her finger under the seal of the envelope.

She pulled out the letter, and then slowly unfolded it.

_Dear Christine, _

_I excuse your absence from your lessons yesterday due to severe practice for the upcoming show. However, I expect you to be ready for tonight's lessons, which will begin the moment you return. They will not be as long, at first, as I know you are still getting used to the schedule at the Opera House. I will meet you then._

_-Your Angel_

A smile lit Christine's face as she saw the signature. Her Angel had taken the time to write a note to her!

She set it down on the desk with the rose, and then realized there was a post script.

_Next time, my dear, do try to take your own clothes off when you get back at night._

(A/N: Thank you for reading everyone! The next update should be tomorrow… Ah, you don't know how nice it is to say that… to be able to post regularly again! YES! Anyway, I should be updating every day or every other day again. Once again, I'm sorry for the wait. Thank you for being patient!)

…Hilary…


	9. Nothing is Easy

(A/N: I think I shall just tell you all right now that I believe tomatoes are vegetables. Anyone who wishes to argue this point should readWillow Rose3's story, For the Love of a Phantom. I'm in it. ((grins)) And anyone who agrees with me can read it as well. It's really, really funny. Okay, now on with my story...)

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Nothing is Easy**

Christine stared at the post script for a while, then stared some more.

_He…How…! _

Desperately, she clung to the memories of her dreams. Who was the tall dark man? Could it be…?—but no. That was nonsense…Angels were bright, glowing beings!

Christine tried to remember the man's face, but found that she couldn't. All she could remember was his glowing eyes in the darkness…

Her heart stirred. Maybe, just maybe, all angels weren't glowing beings. Maybe it really had been her Erik! But that meant that he could take physical form…

'_And why not?'_ Christine scolded herself, '_He could probably do anything…' _For a moment, her heart lifted. Then, quite suddenly, it dropped even lower than before. Just because he could take physical form didn't change anything. She was still a human, and he an Angel. But at least he was _her_ Angel.

Christine smiled at the thought, then set down her note and picked up the rose. It was so perfect, so beautiful.

"Christine! Come on, practice!"

Christine nearly dropped the rose, and she placed it quickly but tenderly back down onto the desk.

"Coming!" she shouted, changing hurriedly into her costume. When she finished, she met Meg outside of her door.

The ballet girl grinned. "Sleep well last night?"

Christine smiled. "_Very_ well."

Meg gave her a thoughtful look. "Most people can't get used to the Opera House right away. They say that they could hear creaking sounds, and that there's a constant feeling of being watched. It never goes away, but I guess we all get used to it. You got used to it more quickly than the others."

Christine grinned, a far away look in her eyes. "Maybe it's because of my Angel."

Meg froze mid-step. "Your…Angel?" She said carefully. "I thought that… You said he… wasn't real."

Christine's eyes widened. "Oh no! I'm sorry Meg, I forgot to tell you. The Angel _is_ real! His name is Erik, and he's giving me singing lessons—and guess what! He promised me that I would be a Prima Donna. Papa always wanted me to be a Prima Donna…" she was about to go on to tell her new friend about how sweet her Angel was, and about how she thought she loved him, but then she suddenly stopped. _What if he could hear her! Maybe he would stop coming if he knew of her feelings for him!_

"Christine…" Meg hesitated, then rushed on. "Christine, I think we should talk…"

Christine stopped and frowned at the ballerina. "What's wrong?"

"I—I…Christine, that's not very possible… I think that…" she took a deep breath. "I think that someone is playing a very cruel trick on you." She chanced a quick glance up at her friend to see her reaction.

Christine had gone suddenly white. Her eyes lost all of their warmth. "Meg, how _could_ you! Don't you think I know the difference between a human's voice and my Angel's voice! I'm not stupid, Meg!"

The ballet rat lowered her head. "I-I'm sorry Christine. I didn't mean to imply that… I was only worried that you would get hurt… I didn't mean…I'm sorry."

Christine paused, then nodded in acceptance of the apology and headed off down the corridor.

Meg stared after her, knowing that she had hurt her friend's feelings. But she had only told the truth! She didn't want Christine to find out the hard way that her Angel wasn't real.

The thing was… Who was playing this joke on her? Why? It seemed fairly heartless to toy with Christine's already battered soul. And Christine _wasn't_ stupid… what had tricked her into believing it to be her Angel? She said that it was his voice…but…

Meg shook her head. She would have to have a talk with her mother.

xxxxx

Erik had followed Christine down the hallway as she talked to Madame Giry's child. He only caught part of their conversation, however.

They were talking about him.

He winced as he heard the Giry child say, _"I think that someone is playing a very cruel trick on you."_

And then Christine defended him. _Actually defended him_. He needed to stop this charade with her, but still didn't know how to. He was still stuck. Either way, he would break her heart—If he stopped coming, she would think the Angel was angry with her, and if she found out who he really was, she would know that there was no Angel of Music.

_What could he do?_

xxxxx

Christine couldn't believe Meg had the nerve to tell her that her Angel wasn't real! How _dare _she! She knew how much this meant to her!

Christine sighed. She had wanted someone to share her feelings with, someone to tell about everything that happened. She couldn't believe that she had told Meg that His name was Erik. She shouldn't have shared information like that! She could only hope that her Angel could forgive her.

xxxxx

Meg avoided Christine's eyes during practice. As soon as there was a slight break, she went straight to her mother.

"Maman—"

"Not now, Meg dear, I'm busy."

"But Maman, it's important!"

"Not important enough to interrupt _this_." Madame Giry waved the script for Hannibal at her. She had been taking notes about the dance steps that would need to be done.

"Yes, it _is_ more important. Christine says that she has an Angel of Music—"

"Utter nonsense. Meg, dear, go talk to your friends—"

"She says that he's giving her singing lessons—"

"Meg! I said—"

"And that his name is Erik, and—"

"Yes, child, now go…go…" Madame Giry suddenly stopped taking notes. After a moment, she carefully set down her quill.

"What was that?"  
"What was what?"

"About the Angel!" Madame Giry snapped, "What was his name?"  
"I think… I'm pretty sure she said…Erik."

There was a long pause as Madame Giry stared at her daughter. "I was afraid of that. Meg, dear, tell me everything about this 'Angel'."

Meg looked at her mother suspiciously. "Do you know an Erik?"

"Of course not! Don't be silly." the ballet instructor snapped, "I am merely curious."

The little ballerina held back a derisive snort. Her mother was _never_ 'merely curious.' But since Meg didn't really have another option, she told her mother about everything Christine had said.

When she finished, her mother was silent for another moment.

"Maman?"

"Meg, child, I want you to tell Christine you believe her. I want her to feel like she can confide in you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Maman."

"Good. Then, I want you to continue to tell me everything she says. This is important, child."

Meg nodded.

"Good. Now off you go."

"But—"

"Go! And don't tell anyone else about this, you hear?"

"Yes Maman."

Madame Giry watched her daughter scurry off to find Christine with a sad, thoughtful look on her face. She sighed. _Things were never easy.

* * *

_

(A/N: Thank you for all of my awesome reviewers! I know I changed a few things, but I thought I said at the beginning that I was. This is _my_ retelling of the book, not the book itself. I know that Christine didn't know Erik's name right away, and I know that she was younger when she went to the Opera House, but I'm a PhanPhic author, not Gaston Leroux or Andrew Lloyd Webber. And I'm _certainly_ not Susan Kay. Whoever said that they hope my writing doesn't turn out like Susan's "horrible" book, well, I hope it does. From what I heard she is an amazing author. Thank you for your opinions, though.

By the way, everyone, did you know that Fish is a vegetable as well? Yup. You learn new things every day. ((winks)).

…Hilary…

(Btw, Aislin, I do the … thing so that my name is separate from the rest of the text. I can use the curly thing, and the hyphen got boring, so that's what I do But you're right, it looks like I have to think to remember my name... Oh well. Maybe I do. ;)


	10. Angel or Phantom?

(A/N: Well, I'm _finally_ updating! I'm so, so sorry about how long it's been taking me to update lately. As soon as the play was over, we started two big English projects, and then we did this History project, _and_ an interview project for Business Seminar…All in the course of a week! These are just excuses, though. I should have tried harder to update. Sorry, guys!)

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Angel or Phantom?**

Madame Giry only half paid attention for the rest of practice that day. She had a far-away look in her eye, as if thinking to herself, and would occasionally scowl and shake her head.

To the ballet's utmost surprise, she even dismissed early. M. Reyer was forced to dismiss early as well, for it was hard to practice with the ballet girls gone.

Meg waited for Christine to catch up with her.

As she suspected, the first thing out of her friend's mouth was, "What has gotten into you mother! I never thought that she'd dismiss early!"

Meg shrugged and used her prepared lie. "I think she's not feeling well. A headache, or something of the sort, I suppose." she grinned, "Hey, _I'm_ not complaining! Four hours early… "

Christine smiled. "What are _you_ going to do?"

Meg gave her a sheepish-looking half-grin. "Well… Some of the girls were going looking for the Phantom. I thought I would, too."

Christine raised an eyebrow, looking amused. "And what happens if you actually _find_ the Phantom?"

Meg realized that she hadn't really thought of that before. "Um… We scream and run?"  
Christine rolled her eyes in amusement, shaking her head at her friend. "What a sincere waste of time."

Meg shrugged, not to be put down. "Well what are _you_ doing, Miss Too-Proper-To-Have-Fun?"  
"I'm not too proper to have fun! I'm just not going looking for a maniac!"

"You didn't answer my question."

Christine stopped and hesitated. "I…I don't know. I think I might…you know…hang around my room for a bit. Maybe I can sing for a while, or perhaps I'll catch up on some sleep."

It was Meg's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Well, maybe we're insane, or wasting our time, but at least we're not _boring._"

"I'm not boring!"

"You're planning on spending your only free time _singing_! We did that all day long!"

"Well I… I…" Christine stuttered.

And then Meg knew.

"Don't worry about it, Christine. Forget I said anything." They had reached Christine's dressing room, and Meg departed. Halfway down the hallway though, she stopped. "Oh, and Christine?"

Her friend stuck her head out of the doorway. "What is it?"

"Say hello to Erik for me."

Meg smiled prettily, then quickly turned the corner of the hallway and was gone.

xxxxx

Christine stared after her friend. _So, she had caught onto her plans._

She sighed. Oh, well, she could only hope that her angel wouldn't be angry for telling Meg his name…

xxxxx

The girls all gathered together with lighted candles to make the whole search more dramatic. Even Meg had to laugh at the lunacy of it. Unfortunately, she had an announcement to make…

"You guys, I can't come with you on the search for the Phantom tonight. I really wanted to, but I think I'm catching the same cold Maman has. Sorry."

"Aww, Meg!" Little Jammes whined, "You're our expert on him!"

Meg grinned. "I don't know anymore than you do! Anyway, have fun you guys."

"Goodnight, Meg."

Meg waved goodnight back, then made towards the corridor her room was in. When she was sure that her friends had seen her moving in that direction, and that she was now out of sight, Meg turned and headed for her mother's rooms.

She wasn't exactly sure if her mother would be there, but it was worth a shot.

Meg stopped at Madame Giry's door and placed her ear against it.

She gasped inaudibly as she heard her mother's voice… and someone else's. She was talking to someone! The voice was definitely male, but very beautiful. She tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but could only catch little bits of it.

"…_didn't have a choice…wanted to help…couldn't get out of it…"_

She heard her mother chuckle darkly. "…couldn't get out of it?...shouldn't have started in the first place!...Now this, on top of… I can't believe you… pretending to be …" Meg strained her ears, "…ghost, angel…what next! Some kind of demon or monster…"

There was a long pause in the conversation, then her mother's voice again.

"…Erik, no! … didn't mean… don't…"

Then there was silence. Meg cracked open the door to see her mother sitting at her desk, back to the door.

She was alone.

The ballerina stayed there for a moment longer, then ran to her room to work things out.

xxxxx

Meg sat down on her bed and rubbed her forehead, thinking. What a confusing conversation! To work this one out, she started with the most surprising thing she had heard that made sense to her. The man her mother was talking to was named Erik.  
Erik was Christine's 'Angel.' Meg was almost sure of it.

It was odd, though, he hadn't even left the room, and yet her mother had been alone when she had looked in! It was as if he had vanished into thin air!

…vanished into thin air…

Meg gasped as something in her mind clicked. What was it her mother had said? "…ghost, angel…what next!"

Ghost. Erik was the Opera Ghost!

Meg sat up with a clatter and ran all of the way to Christine's room.

xxxxx

Christine played with one of her curls. When her Angel hadn't come, she had found a book to read in an old chest by her dresser. She had thought about joining Meg on her "Phantom hunt," but then decided against it.

After all… he could turn up any time now…

The door was flung open, and Meg ran in.

Christine jumped, then saw who it was and smiled in relief. "What's wrong, Meg? Did you see the Phantom?"

Meg's reaction to the simple question was decidedly odd. Her eyes opened wide in shock, as if Christine had discovered an important secret. Then they cleared again, like she realized what was going on.

Christine sat up and frowned.

"What is it, Meg?"

"Oh, nothing! I just felt like saying hi. Oh, and I wanted to apologize for earlier. I'm sorry I didn't believe you when you said that you were visited by the Angel of Music."

Christine's expression got even more confused. "But Meg—"

"No, it was wrong of me, Christine. I was jealous."

"Jealous?"

Meg nodded, looking ashamed. "Not everyone is visited by an Angel, Christine. You're really lucky."

Christine paused, and then stood and went over to her friend. "I know I am. It's okay, Meg, I would have been jealous, too. I acted selfishly today, and I shouldn't have yelled at you. Am I forgiven?"

Meg smiled weakly. "Only if I am."

xxxxx

Meg felt awful about deceiving her friend even more, but she was certain that Christine wouldn't believe the truth. After all, she didn't even _believe_ in the Opera Ghost.

When Meg thought about it herself, she had to admit that _she_ hadn't even _really_ believed in the ghost.

Not until now.

Now, everything had changed. The Ghost was real, she was sure of it… and he was pretending to be an Angel.

* * *

(A/N: _Aha! _Perhaps Little Giry knew more than we thought! Lol, anyway, the next update _will _be soon. Tomorrow is my last day of school, and then we're out for spring break. This means I'll have a long bit of free time on my hands… I can update! Thank you all for being so patient with me.)

­- Hilary -


	11. Not So Perfect

(A/N: Ahh, Sorry for the long wait… AGAIN. ((Sighs)) Easter break has been busier than I thought it would be. I'll see if I can update at least once today, and at least once tomorrow. The funny thing is, I'm _still_ getting reviews for this phanfic, even on the fourth or fifth day! Lol, jeez, maybe I should keep being slow at updating. I seem to get more reviews that way Don't worry, I'm j/k. Hopefully I'll be back on a regular schedule soon.)

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Not So Perfect**

Erik seethed silently to himself as he swept down the dark passageways under the opera house. How _dare_ she! Madame Giry didn't know anything about the situation he was in! How _dare_ she try to reprimand him for something she didn't understand!

And then, to top it all off, she called him… Erik stopped and gently touched his mask. He knew she hadn't meant what she'd said, but it had still hurt. It didn't help that he had been irritated to begin with, either.

Erik thought for a moment about going back down to his lair and playing angrily on his organ for a while, but then pushed the thought aside. No, Christine would probably be waiting for him.

He took a deep breath. Whatever happened, he _must _control his temper. Christine would not believe that an angel could get angry. He mustn't shatter her illusions. Not yet. Hopefully never…

Once more Erik swiftly made his way through the shadows up to the mirror to her dressing room. He had been too preoccupied to realize that he had forgotten his violin. Erik got there just in time to see Little Giry leaving.

xxxxx

Christine hummed to herself as she went back over to her bed and picked up her book. She almost immediately dropped it, however, when she heard her name being called. She looked up eagerly. "Angel?"

"_Forgive me if I came too soon for your liking. I noticed that you were let off early today, and decided you could do with a bit of extra practice."_

Christine winced slightly. _Did he still think she was that bad?_ "Oh, no, Ang…Erik, I've been waiting for you for a while. I thought you might come earlier. As a matter of fact…" She smiled a bit devilishly, "You're _late_."

There was a small silence. For a moment she was afraid she offended him—sometimes, she noticed, he got upset over the smallest of things—but then he answered, _"Well, I suppose if you put it _that_ way…"_

She grinned. "So, what am I working on today?"

"_Third page of the second aria. You still haven't got the shaping of the phrases right."_

Christine bit back a sigh, and picked up the script from where it lay on her bed. She flipped to the right page, and looked up expectantly.

There was a long pause.

"Erik… is there a problem?"

It sounded as if he hesitated for a moment. _"Christine… I don't suppose…I don't suppose you'd like to sing a cappella today?"_

She frowned. "Why? Do you…do you not _want_ to play for me?"

"_No, my dear, that's not the case…You see, I…I…_" More silence. Finally, in a voice that sounded just a bit too rushed, he told her, _"I forgot the violin."_

There was a shocked silence. Then, with amusement just beginning to creep into her voice, Christine said, "What? You…_forgot_ the violin?"

Then she burst into uncontrollable laughter.

xxxxx

'_Brilliant. Just Brilliant.' _Erik thought bitterly to himself. Angels _didn't_ forget these kind of things. It wasn't in their nature to be forgetful. At least, he told himself quickly, in stories they weren't. But then, what did he know of angels? Perhaps Christine wouldn't notice.

He glanced back up at her. She was laughing so hard she had to lean against the bed post for balance.

_No, she definitely noticed._

xxxxx

When Christine finally recovered from her bout of giggles, she took a deep breath and said, "Can't you just go get it? I mean, if you teach me from your home…"

"_I don't."_

"Oh." Was it just her, or did he sound just a tad bit _sulky_? Actually, though, she didn't mind his mess-up. It made him seem more…more human. Not so perfect. Was she rubbing off on him? Surely this wasn't angel behavior! "Very well then, Erik, I have an idea. Since apparently you're too _lazy_ to get your own violin," she grinned at the jibe, "Perhaps you could use this one."

Christine made her way over to the chest in the corner of her room, and opened it. Carefully, she removed her father's violin. She stared at it for a moment. The last time it had been played, it had been played by her father on the day he died.

Christine took a deep breath, and then stood up with the violin hugged to her chest. It would be an honor to have her Angel play it.

"This is my father's violin. If…if you can come get it, and if you will return it afterwards, you may play it. But…" she hesitated, "Be careful?"

"_Of course I shall be careful. Christine, are you sure about this?"_

She nodded. "So you can come get it?"

"_Yes."_

Christine felt a thrill of excitement go through her. Her Angel would be in the room with her! Still, it was kind of strange that he could come _here_ and get this violin, but not go home and get his own… But who was she to argue with angels?  
_"Close your eyes, Christine."_

She frowned slightly at that. She had wanted to see him… Perhaps she could peek after a moment…

"_And no looking. I will know if you do."_

It was as if he'd read her mind. Maybe he had. Christine's shoulders drooped slightly, all of her hopes of seeing her Angel quickly evaporating. "I won't look, Erik."

She closed her eyes tightly, and thought that she heard something. After a moment, she dismissed it as her overactive imagination.

Suddenly she knew he was there beside her. The violin was carefully taken from her grasp. She bit her lip, trying hard not to open her eyes. It was so tempting…

Suddenly she felt a gloved finger on her bottom lip. "No biting." His lovely voice said tenderly. Christine gasped. The voice was right by her ear! She wanted to reach out and touch him… she _knew_ he was there…

Then, as quickly as he came, he was gone. She tried not to let her disappointment show. If only she had stopped him, taken his hand when he'd touched her! After all… he hadn't said not to touch him… only not to _look_ at him…

Suddenly her heart lifted. She felt evil at the thought, but couldn't help remembering that he had to return the violin to her… which meant he'd be in the room with her again…

Christine shivered, either with horror at her thoughts, or with anticipation. She couldn't tell which.

xxxxx

The rest of the lesson passed smoothly. Christine did amazingly well, and by the end, she was sure that Erik was greatly pleased with her.

When he told her it was time for the lesson to end, she immediately asked for the violin back.

"_Don't worry,"_ he sounded amused, _"It's not as though I'm going to steal it from you. Close your eyes."  
_Christine's eyes instantly shut, and she held her breath. There was a moment of silence, and then she _felt_ his presence in her room. She wanted to go to him now, but stopped herself. She didn't want him to vanish before she got to touch him…

Suddenly she wondered if he was even solid, or if her hand would go right through him. Then, she remembered his finger on her lips and smiled. No, he at least had a solid, human form when he was down here on earth.

She heard his footsteps get nearer, and then hesitate. "I'll put the violin on top of the chest." he said softly. She nodded, and then followed him over there. His presence was overwhelming… he was only just a foot or two away…

There was the sound of the violin being carefully lain down on the wooden chest, and then she felt him turn to face her.

Christine shivered with excitement… she was so close! She took another step, and then reached out and touched his shoulder.

He stiffened, and immediately backed up. Of course, there was no where to back up to. She had backed him into a corner. Christine's one worry was that he would regain his senses and disappear.

But that didn't happen.

He stood completely still as she took another step forward, and felt for his hand. She took it, entwining her fingers with his. Her heart was beating rapidly as she suddenly closed all of the space between them and leaned against him.

She heard his breath catch in his throat, and her heart skipped a beat. Was this as tempting to him as it was to her?

Christine buried her head in his shoulder. He smelled good—like some kind of spice. She clung tightly to his hand, bringing it to her face. Slowly she removed the glove, letting it drop to the floor, and then pressed his hand against her cheek. His hands were cold, which surprised her. She didn't mind, though, and sighed when he stroked her cheek, then moved it back into her curls.

Christine nuzzled closer to him, her face in the crook of his neck. Their bodies were now positioned intimately, legs entwined. She softly kissed the base of his neck, and he let out a soft, yearning moan. His hands traveled down her back… then suddenly he stiffened.

Abruptly she was violently pushed away from him, landing on the floor with bruising force. Before she could even move, he was gone.

Christine opened her eyes, slightly dazed. She pushed herself up and stood, then, quite suddenly, went cold. She sunk down onto the bed, shivering.

_What had she done?

* * *

_

(A/N: Hmm… I actually liked this chapter… Lol, that's rare, I hardly ever like my work. Oh well… Anyway, the next chapter is going to either be mostly or all from Erik's point of view. I was thinking about putting it up tonight, but decided that tomorrow will do. I'll make you wait. Lol, compared to lately, though, tomorrow seems really soon, doesn't it? Happy Easter everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please R and R!)

Hilary -


	12. And So It Begins

(A/N: Ahh, it's so nice to have an update so soon, isn't it? Hopefully, I'll be able to update yet again tomorrow. I'm rapidly losing reviewers though. For "A White Mask" I had about 60. For the first chapter of this, it went down to around 30. Now, for the past few chapters, I've only had about 20. Still, no complaints, that's pretty many. It just makes me wonder… Oh well. I just hope it doesn't drop keep dropping, or I'll really start to worry that this is getting worse instead of better. Thank you to my reviewers! Oh, also this chapter begins with Erik, but it didn't have as much in it as I thought it would.)

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: And So it Begins**

Erik leaned against the cold wall of the passageway, his heart beating rapidly. _What had she done!_

He took a shaky breath and shivered. He wasn't sure if he should be angry at her boldness, or afraid that he had hurt her when he pushed her, or surprised that she had touched him like that.

He recalled her hand in his, her body pressed to his, her lips on his neck… _What had _possessed _her! Surely that wasn't the way she thought she should treat an angel! But then, he wasn't an angel…_

But she didn't know that. Did she? By all means, she should realize it now. He couldn't believe he had _let _her do that to him… Why had he?

Hot shame rose up in him when he realized exactly why he had let her—he had _wanted _her to. He had wanted her to kiss him, wanted her to… to…

He cut his thoughts off, temper rising again. How _dare_ she make him feel like that! He knew he was being irrational, but at the moment he didn't mind. How _dare_ she make him—_him_—want her, when he knew he couldn't have her?

He turned and pounded his fist against the cold stone of the wall. Then he sucked in a breath at the pain. He brought his hand back and stared at it. Of course, he wasn't wearing a glove. _She_ had taken it off.

He watched the blood drip down his hand, his thoughts not even on it. He had been through worse pain than _this_. His temper was still raging, and he felt as if he wanted to destroy something…_anything_.

Suddenly he heard a choked sob come from the room behind him, and he turned to look. It was amazing how quickly his temper disintegrated when he saw Christine lying on her bed, weeping.

Immediately he wanted to go comfort her, but he knew that wasn't an option. He would probably only make things worse. The best he could do right now was go home and cool his temper off. He would deal with this later.

xxxxx

Christine had fallen asleep after a while, and didn't even stir when the dark shape entered her room through the mirror and gently set something on her desk. He began to return back to the shadows, and then suddenly stopped.

He quietly glided back across the room and looked down at the floor beside her bed. It wasn't there. After a moment, he sighed and went back through the mirror.

xxxxx

Christine woke the next morning feeling even more tired than she had the night before. She ached all over, her face felt gritty, and her hair lay in tangles.

She sighed and forced herself out of bed and to her feet, then dragged herself over to the desk. She didn't want to think about what had happened the night before, and was able to push it from her mind…

…Until she saw the rose. She reached over and delicately picked it up. Like the other one he'd given her, it was tied with a black ribbon.

Hesitantly, she also reached out and picked up the letter that had been underneath of it. Surely Erik (who she was still convinced was an angel) wasn't too angry with her, if he had left her a rose?...

She slowly broke the seal to the letter, and unfolded it.

_Dearest Christine,_

_I apologize for my behavior last night. I was not thinking straight, and had been having a trying day. I hope I did not hurt you too badly when I pushed you away. My thanks for your letting me borrow your father's violin. I know how much he meant to you._

_If you wish, I shall continue giving you lessons, however I will understand it if you do not want me to. If your lessons do proceed, however, know that I will never put you in that…unfortunate…circumstance again._

_To be certain of this, I will make sure I never have to appear to you again. It was my mistake, dear, do not blame yourself._

_Best wishes during rehearsals today. Remember, opening night is in less than a week. You will have very little time to practice the lead role on stage, but it shall begin today._

_Also, be sure to meet the new managers. Apparently, the old ones ran away from some …ghost… that they could not handle. _

_Hopefully the new ones will be better than the last, but I doubt it. _

_I remain faithfully yours,_

_- Erik._

Christine turned the note over. As she guessed there would be, there was a post script.

_PS—I want my glove back._

She blushed, then set the note down and opened the top drawer of her desk. She removed his glove and, after a moment, laid it carefully down in plain view.

She only wished she would be here to see him take it away.

Christine thought back to the letter. _…will make sure I never have to appear to you again…_ She bit her lip, then stopped, remembering he didn't like that. She was ashamed of what she had done, to say the least. She wasn't sure what had made her react like that… she had only wanted, in the beginning, to touch him, to know he was real… Well, that had quickly changed.

What did he mean, her practice on the stage would begin today? As far as she knew, La Carlotta was feeling perfectly well, and had no plans of quitting the lead anytime soon.

Still, she had to trust in her Angel. Quite clearly he knew what he was doing.

To even think that he wasn't sure if _she_ wanted to continue her lessons! She had been worried sick that _he _wouldn't want to continue giving them to her!

Thankfully, that hadn't been the case.

There was a knock on her door, and Meg's voice called for her. Rehearsals were about to start. It was another day.

Christine quickly got ready and changed into her outfit, then, with a last look behind her at the glove and the rose on her desk, she ran out.

xxxxx

As soon as he was sure Christine was gone, Erik slipped out from behind the mirror to retrieve his glove. So she had stored it in her desk drawer—_that_ was why he hadn't been able to find it last night!

He slid the glove onto his hand and disappeared behind the mirror again. He could already hear Carlotta's horrible voice echoing through the Opera House.

It was time he got to work.

* * *

(A/N: Sorry this chapter was short. The next chapter is where the musical _actually_ starts. You know, with "Rehearsals for Hannibal." I decided to lean more towards the musical version then anything else. I like the facts from the book, but the musical _events_ are easier to follow. I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter! As I said, the next one shall be up either tomorrow or the next day. Please R and R!)

Hilary -


	13. Promise Kept

(A/N: Yep, the number of reviews has dropped again. Oh well. I don't care anymore. I have fun writing this, and I guess that's all that matters. I just wish I knew _why _all of these people were leaving! Oh, and for the person who asked, nearly 200 people have me on their author alert. 198 to be precise. Lol, in your sense of justice, that means I should get 198 reviews for every chapter, right? It's a shame I get only 20. Makes you wonder what the other 178 do with my author alert. Anyway, remember I'm sticking to the musical…mostly.)

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Promise Kept**

Christine winced as Carlotta hit another high note. She had been practicing this piece for so long, and it still sounded _horrible._

How could anyone come and enjoy this? Perhaps parents brought their children as a form of punishment. Christine debated on this for a while, and then decided that she was just being cruel.

It was probably all a matter of taste. Some people might _like_ this kind of singing—she certainly didn't—but she just never met them. After all, Carlotta couldn't be this famous for absolutely _nothing._

Finally it was time for the chorus to come on, and Christine followed Meg out onto the stage. She was so tired! Christine hadn't been good at this particular dance to begin with, but now she was doing even worse than usual.

She heard the loud crack of wood on wood, and grimaced slightly as Madame Giry yelled out her name, telling her to get the dance right. She off beat again. Meg glanced at her over her shoulder and mouthed, _"Are you all right?"_

Christine nodded and continued the dance. Monsieur Reyer was commenting on something that the leading tenor, Piangi, had sung.

Suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a few men walking onto the stage. The two old managers, Debienne and Poligny, were the first two, but the other ones she didn't recognize. Then abruptly she remembered Erik had told her that the Opera House was getting new managers.

Apparently Meg had known, too, because she didn't look surprised at all. She just kept dancing, getting every step perfectly. Christine sighed and attempted to copy her. She didn't do very well.

She heard one of the new managers say her name, and one of the old managers said something along the lines of her being a daydreamer. She wanted to stop and correct him, but didn't.

She really _wasn't_ a daydreamer! She'd just been so busy and tired lately; it was hard to keep up with everything. After all, she had been learning _two_ parts for this opera, not only one!

The managers continued talking, stopping in the middle of the stage. Finally Monsieur Reyer, who wasn't a patient man to begin with, got irritated. "Messieurs, would you be so kind as to get out of the way? We're trying to _rehearse_, you might have noticed!"

"Yes, yes, I've noticed!" Debienne said cheerfully. "I would like to make an announcement, everyone!"

Monsieur Reyer was clearly trying to hold back a moan of frustration. "By all means! Go on, make your announcement!"

Everyone had stopped performing, and the ballet girls were now whispering fiercely among themselves about who the two men with the managers might be. Christine thought that they were all about to find out.

"Your attention! Your attention, please!" Debienne called out. The whispers continued and, if anything, got louder.

Madame Giry slammed her staff down on the stage, and everyone jumped, including all four of the managers, new and old.

Debienne smiled weakly. "Thank you for that, Madame Giry."

She smiled slightly, obviously noticing how much it had startled him. "My pleasure, monsieur."

"Anyway, everyone, it is with regret that I have to announce that my partner and I will be retiring this year. Immediately, as a matter of fact." He didn't mention the reason for their hasty retirement, but he didn't need to. Everyone in the room, except, perhaps, the new managers, knew it was because of the ghost.

If the new managers thought that any of this was strange, however, they didn't say anything.

"I would like to introduce your new managers as of now, Messieurs Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre." There was a polite round of applause from the on-lookers.

Carlotta immediately pushed her way over to a rather startled-looking Andre, and then batted her eyes at him. Piangi, who was a little ways away, glared.

"May I introduce the lovely Carlotta, our lead soprano." M. Reyer proclaimed at once.

"Ah!" Andre exclaimed, a smile now appearing on his face, "La Carlotta, forgive me, I did not recognize you, you look so… different… this close."

Firmin, meanwhile, was looking past the prima donna at the ballet dancers—La Sorelli, in particular—and completely ignoring her. Carlotta began turning faintly red at the realization that she was being ignored.

Andre, seeing the trouble, hastily tried to take her attention away from his oblivious comrade. "My lady, I am one of your biggest fans. Do you suppose that, well, you might give us a private performance now? I hear that there's quite an amazing aria in act three…if you wouldn't mind, of course."

Carlotta, seeing the chance to get everyone's attention focused on her, smiled widely. "Of course, eef my manager commands! Monsieur Reeyir?"

"If my diva commands." Carlotta gave him a look that said quite clearly she _did_ command. He sighed. "Will two bars be sufficient?"

xxxxx

Erik listened from above as La Carlotta began to sing, completely mutilating the song. He wasn't too impressed with his new managers. Andre was plainly besotted with the large soprano already, and Firmin was busy staring at the ballet rats, who were giggling furiously and whispering to each other.

Erik cringed as Carlotta hit a wrong note, then suddenly noticed one of the backdrops was almost perfectly positioned above her head.

Buquet, the chief of the flies, was evidently no where near his post. He was probably too busy attempting to look up a dancer's skirts.

A smile came to Erik's face.

Silently he stalked over to where the backdrop was tied tightly to an iron bar. He snorted derisively at the shoddily done job, and quickly untied it.

The backdrop went sailing down, cutting La Carlotta off mid-note. Erik smirked._ Perfect._ With a swish of his cloak, he vanished down through one of his many trap doors.

xxxxx

"My dear lady!" Andre screamed, "Are you all right!"

Firmin rounded on the two nervous-looking ex-managers, whose eyes were flitting around anxiously. "I demand an explanation for this!" he hissed. "Someone could have been seriously injured, and we have a full house coming up!"

The ex-managers exchanged looks, and finally one of them shouted, "Buquet! Buquet!" after a moment, a dirty looking man appeared and made his way over to them. "Buquet is our chief of the flies." Poligny explained, "He'll be responsible for this."

They turned to him expectantly, hoping he would make up a cover-up story. This wasn't what Buquet had in mind, however. "I'm sorry, good messieurs, but I wasn't at my post! If anyone is held responsible for this... well, it was most probably the _ghost_!" he smiled wickedly.

Poligny couldn't suppress a groan as both of the new managers turned to stare at him. "Well, good messieurs, congratulations on your new Opera House! We are quite busy, unfortunately, and cannot stay. Goodbye!...and good luck." Poligny quickly ran off stage, followed by Debienne.

Firmin and Andre exchanged looks, wondering just what they had gotten themselves into. Suddenly there was a frustrated, terrified scream, however, and Andre ran to help Carlotta up. Piangi instantly pushed him out of the way and helped the lady up himself.

"Zis… zis ees an outrage! I cannot _stand_ eet anymore! I am leefing!"

Andre frowned. "Leefing?"

"LEEFING!" Carlotta shouted at him. "Ubaldo! My coat! And my doggeh." The prima donna turned on her heel and marched out.

By the time Andre had figured out what 'leefing' meant, it was too late to stop her. She was gone. He turned desperately to Firmin who, in turn, turned to M. Reyer. "Surely there is an understudy for this part!"

M. Reyer shook his head, dazed and bewildered. "There is no understudy. It is a new production."

Suddenly Madame Giry stepped out of the shadows. "Christine Daae could sing it, sir." Everyone jumped. They had forgotten she was there.

"Daae? The _chorus_ girl?"

Madame Giry smiled slowly. "Let her try, at least, messieurs. I assure you she has been well taught." she glanced at Christine, who just stared at her.

"Well?" Firmin demanded.

Christine hesitantly stepped up, and M. Reyer resignedly began to play the same introduction he had for Carlotta.

She began to sing quietly, and tried not to pay attention to the scathing comment Firmin made. Andre nudged his partner to make him be quiet.

As Christine continued, she got progressively louder and more into the song. Weeks of rehearsal for this piece had been drilled into her, and she got every note correct, and all of the dynamics perfectly. She put her _soul_ into her song, just as her Angel, her Erik, had taught her to.

When she finished breathlessly, there was a stunned silence. Then Andre began to applaud ecstatically. "Brava, brava! I believe we've found our new diva, Firmin!"

Christine's heart skipped a beat. Once again, her angel had been right. She wouldn't let him down!

* * *

(A/N: Yay, I updated _again_! Now, I'll be expecting those 198 reviews! Lol, thanks for reading everyone! Please, _please_ review! Even if you only have the time to say "good job" or "I liked it" or "This sucks." Please? And I know this chapter was boring, but it was necessary.)

Hilary -


	14. An Unexpected Reunion

"_It's the cliffies that will bring reviewers out of their shells."_

Blue Eyes At Night

Oh dear, oh dear… what _have_ you done? ((slowly smiles)) I stared at that review for the longest time. And then I began to remember… My Cliffhangers! How could I have forgotten them! My lovely, beautiful, spectacularous cliffhangers!

"_I'm just happy it wasn't a cliffhanger, you seem to be very fond __of those."_

Ophicial-Phan

Ooh yes. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes! You won't believe what I did when I read this review… I _actually_ threw my head back and laughed evilly! I hope no one heard me, they'd be quite worried, probably…

**Thank you ALL! YAY! I had a _lot_ more reviews for that chapter. It didn't occur to me that people were reading that weren't reviewing! Thanks again!**

**_WARNING! _**I'm back on my cliffie-high. Thank Blue Eyes At Night. I never would have remembered without her.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: An Unexpected Reunion**

"Messieurs?"

Andre and Firmin jumped and looked up from sorting out the mess that was the office. A woman they recognized from earlier… Madame Giry, was it?... stepped into their office. There was something clutched in her hand.

"I bring you tidings from the Opera Ghost." the ballet mistress held out a letter addressed to them in red ink. Neither of them moved to take it. Instead, they both fixed her with stares that said quite clearly they thought she was insane.

"_Ghost?_ What is this nonsense?" Firmin demanded.

Madame Giry frowned. "Messieurs Poligny and Debienne did not inform you of the Ghost?"

Firmin continued to stare incredulously at her. She said 'ghost' as if it were a title, or something of the like. Dear Lord, did they have an insane woman on their hands? He took a deep breath, and then began to speak slowly and gently. "Madame Giry, isn't it?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Indeed."

"Very good. Now, what's all this about ghosts? Surely you know there is no such thing as ghosts. They are supernatural beings used only in fairy tales. No one of your age, Madame, should believe in anything of the sort." Suddenly a thought hit him, "Unless, of course, you are joking?"

Madame Giry shook her head. "I assure you, Monsieur, that there _is_ a ghost in this Opera House, and if you do not begin to believe in him soon… then God help you."

She tossed the letter down onto the already cluttered desk, then turned on her heel and strolled out, shutting the door behind her.

Both sets of eyes moved down to the envelope.

"You open it." Firmin told Andre. Andre sighed and picked up the letter. He slit it open, and then began to read it aloud. Firmin leaned over his shoulder to look.

_My New Managers:_

_Since my old managers were incompetent fools and told you nothing of me, I shall inform you on all you need to know by means of this letter._

_My salary, which consists of 20,000 francs, is due at the end of the month. I also will request the usage of Box Five on all opening nights. If you do not follow these instructions, you will find you deeply regret it. There are too many things that can go wrong in this Opera House, and still look like an accident._

_Your Obedient Servant,_

_O.G._

xxxxx

The next two days passed all too quickly for Christine. She hadn't heard a word from her angel, her Erik, ever since the letter he wrote to her. She was beginning to worry that, despite what he'd said, he'd never come back.

The night of the performance, however, she found another rose on her desk with a note reading simply, _"Good Luck."_

When she was finished changing into her costume, suddenly someone called her name. She gasped. "Erik?"  
Even as she spoke his name, she blushed slightly. How long had he been there? Had he watched her _change_? … But surely not. No Angel would do that! Or would he? After all, she had been able to seduce him just a few nights ago…

Perhaps Erik, and other Angels, could fall in love just as easily as humans. Christine clung to that thought, hoping. Perhaps one day he would even let her see him… even touch him again.

Her eyes filled with hope as she looked around her almost empty room. Then she frowned. He hadn't said anything since he had whispered her name. "Erik?"

"_I am here."_

She sighed in relief.

"I'm nervous, Erik." she admitted, "I don't think I can do this. I'll… I'll faint, or something. As soon as I see all of those people, I'll pass out."

"_Don't say that, Ma chérie. You will do beautifully, and I will be there to watch you."_

Christine's face broke into a smile. "Really?"

"_Of course. I haven't done all of this work only to miss your first lead role."_

Christine shivered in delight. He had said, _'Your first.'_ Did that mean he wanted her in more? Would he be here to help her achieve that? She knew she couldn't without him.

"_Don't be nervous. I will be right there in case anything goes wrong. I will be there to help you."_

"Thank you, Erik. Is there anything I could ever do for you? Anything at all?"

"_There… there is one rule, Christine. It only applies if you want me to continue giving you lessons, however."_

Christine looked curious. "Of course I want you to continue! What is the rule?"

He sounded as if he hesitated for a moment. Then, firmly, he said, _"You must never marry."_

xxxxx

Raoul de Chagny followed his brother into their selected box, looking eagerly around at the Paris Opera House. This was the first time he'd ever been able to attend.

He'd heard, however, that La Carlotta's voice murdered the eardrums.

Raoul glanced over at Philippe. _He _probably only came to see the ballerina he liked, La Sorelli, or something like that. He suspected his older brother of maybe having an affair with the young lady.

Luckily, Raoul had heard that La Carlotta wouldn't be performing tonight. Instead, another young diva was taking her place. Raoul hoped it was someone who could actually sing.

Suddenly the curtains began to open. Raoul smiled widely and sat at the edge of his seat, peering down.

Philippe watched him with a smile on his face. _His younger brother was so innocent_. He shook his head, and then turned to watch the show as well.

xxxxx

Christine's heart fluttered. She had just run all of the way here, and was almost out of breath… and it was time for her to go on. She closed her eyes and composed herself.

Abruptly she felt Meg's hand on her shoulder, and her friend smiled at her. "Good luck, Christine."

Christine faintly heard one of their managers announcing a new patron of some sort, who was apparently attending that night.

Then came her cue to go on.

xxxxx

Erik sat carefully in the shadows. He only had his box to himself that night, he suspected, because the new managers hadn't had any time to sell it.

He watched with bated breath as Christine walked onto the stage, and began to sing.

Then he lost himself in her voice.

xxxxx

Christine had done her best at the performance. She had never sung like that in her life! Now, however, she was exhausted, and felt as if she were going to faint. As soon as the production was officially over, she ran out down the corridors to her dressing room, feeling ill. She thought she heard someone call her name behind her, but she ignored it.

All she wanted to do now was curl up in her room and listen to her Angel's voice. Assuming that Erik would be there, of course…after all, he _had_ listened to her tonight! Surely he would want to comment on how she had done.

Christine shut the door to the dressing room behind her, then stripped off her costume and changed into her nightdress.

All the while, she pondered what Erik had told her earlier. _So she couldn't marry._ This had never been a rule before! She wondered for a little bit… and hoped some more. What if he didn't want her to marry because _he_ loved her? She decided to pretend that that was why he had made the demand.

Suddenly, while she was taking her hair down, there was a knock on her door. She frowned. "Come in!"

Meg slipped into the room and shut the door behind her. "Oh, Christine! You were spectacular! I've never heard anything like it!"

Christine smiled. "I owe it all to my Angel."

"Oh..." For a moment, she thought she saw Meg's smile falter, "Yes, well, I'm sure you do. He must be a wonderful teacher!"

"He is."

"Christine..." For a moment, Meg looked like she wanted to say something important, but then there was a sharp rap on the door and Madame Giry walked in.

She gave Meg an odd look, and said, "Come, Meg, the ballerinas are practicing the dance in the first act. You are a ballerina, are you not?"

Meg cast a look at her friend, then sighed and nodded. "Coming, Maman."

The two exited.

Christine sighed and relaxed in the momentary peace and quiet. Her headache was finally beginning to go away, when there was another knock on the door. "Come in!" Christine shouted again.

She wasn't facing the door, but she saw his reflection in the mirror. A happy smile graced her face the moment she noticed him, and she turned to face him.

"_Raoul!"_

"Christine!"

"Oh, Raoul, it's so good to see you!"

"What have you been doing here? Your father…" he hesitated.

Christine swallowed. "He died, not too long ago. I was sent here, with Mama Valerius to take care of me if anything happened."

Raoul frowned and kneeled down beside her, gently taking her hand. "I'm sorry, Christine. He was a good man."

"He was." she whispered, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. She turned the conversation around. "I'm sorry about your last visit… I wasn't in a good mood."

He grinned. "Nor was I. If you wish to believe in this 'Angel of Music', then you may." He delicately kissed the hand he was holding.

Suddenly Christine paled. Angel of Music… _Erik!_ What if he was watching! What if he got the wrong idea about Raoul being here?

"Raoul, it was so nice to see you, but now you must go."

Raoul frowned. "Go? Why?"

"Raoul… father promised me that when he died, he would send me the Angel of Music, remember?"

The Vicomte nodded.

"Well, he has. But Raoul, E—the Angel wouldn't like you being here, I know it. He—he's a little bit strict. I think he'd get the wrong idea… Just go, Raoul. Maybe we can talk later?" She looked hopeful. It was so nice to see her childhood friend again! It reminded her of a past she had nearly forgotten…

"Of course we can talk later! 10 minutes, Little Lotte, and I'll come to bring you to the carriage! We'll go on a late night picnic."

He handed her a bouquet of flowers, which he seemingly produced out of no where, and then headed off towards the door. Christine smiled fondly at the flowers for a moment.

Then she realized what he had meant.

"No! Raoul!" She stood up quickly and shouted after him, but it was too late. He was already gone.

xxxxx

Erik watched Christine and Raoul through narrowed eyes. _Who was this boy? How did Christine know him? _He wondered if they had been friends… or something more.

Still slightly upset, he whispered, _"Christine…"_

xxxxx

Christine jumped at her Angel's voice, and then shivered. He had seen Raoul…

"_Who was that, Christine? That boy?"_ Was it just her, or did he sound slightly… irritated? Jealous, maybe?

"Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny." she smiled, "We were childhood sweethearts." Immediately, she wished she hadn't added that last bit.

There was a sour pause. _"I see."_

"No, Erik! It's nothing like that—not anymore. Raoul and I haven't seen each other for years!"

"_He certainly seemed ready to start the relationship again. Where is it you're going with him? On a picnic?"_

His voice was definitely scathing now. Christine frowned. He wasn't being fair! But, she thought secretly, he certainly _did_ sound jealous now.

"He was only being kind. Unlike _some_ people, Raoul actually _wants_ to spend time with me. I doubt he'd push me away if—"

"_That is enough!"_

Christine felt herself pale. What had she been saying! She shuddered, this time with fear, and buried her head in her hands.

"_Christine…"_

But it wasn't _fair_! Why wouldn't he let her see him? Didn't he trust her? Faintly, she heard herself say, "Why can't I get married Erik?"

There was a long pause.

"_Why?" _Erik suddenly snapped, _"Do you want to marry your Vicomte? Surely he's rich and handsome enough—"_

"Erik, that's not what I meant, I was only curious! Besides, at least I can _see _him! At least I can _touch_ him! That's more than you can say for _some_ people!"

Another long pause.

"_Do you wish to see me that badly, Christine?"_

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

"_Then… then you may. But you must promise that, no matter what, you will come live with me for three days afterwards. Then you may return, and you never have to hear from me again unless you wish it."_

Christine's heart lifted. Live with him? For three days! It was more than she could have hoped for. For some reason, though, he sounded sad.

"_You will not wish me to continue your lessons afterwards."_

"Of course I will!" Christine protested, "Please, Angel? Please, Erik?"

Finally, after a little while, the soft, beautiful voice said, _"Walk over to your mirror, Christine."

* * *

_

(A/N: Wow, long chapter. See, that wasn't a bad cliffhanger, now was it? Ooh, but fear the next one! ((laughs maniacally)) Anyway, you may notice that Madame Giry didn't give her a note, but I didn't really see how the note fit in. How would Erik know about the red scarf? I'm sorry if this upset any of you, but I found it rather pointless. Okay, please Review if you want me to put up the next chapter! I promise you, it's a good one! It's all fluffy... for a while, at least… So review if you want it up!)

Hilary -


	15. Illusions Shattered

(A/N: Okay, well, I went easy on you last time with the cliffhanger. I know you had to wait for a while to read this chapter, but for some reason was down for a while, and then the next time I could we had a thunderstorm and I couldn't get on the computer. At least you had a small cliffie. Just imagine if it were a bad one! ((Sends hinting glares at Wandering Child, who still hasn't updated Demons)) Anyway, this definitely **_isn't_ **the fluffy chapter I promised you. I'm sorry! I thought it would be, but then I changed my mind. But never fear, there _will_ be another fluffy chapter eventually!)

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**Chapter Fifteen: Illusions Shattered**

Christine felt her heart jump to her throat as she walked slowly over to the mirror. It looked the same as it always had—cool and distant, with nothing special or distinguished about it at all.

She continued walking until she stood directly in front of it. "Erik?" she asked softly, "I don't understand…"

But at that moment, she heard something click, and let out and audible gasp as the mirror swung open…

xxxxx

Raoul half ran back to Christine's dressing room. He couldn't wait for her to see the surprise he had in store! The picnic under the stars was going to be amazing. They could use this time to catch up with one another.

Finally, he reached her room. He knocked softly on the door. "Christine?"

Suddenly he frowned. There was a man's voice coming from inside! Raoul pressed his ear up against the door and heard Christine say, _"Erik? I don't understand…"_

He frowned. Who was this Erik! Well, he was about to find out!

xxxxx

Erik's fingers trembled as he fumbled with the latch for the mirror, and then flicked it open.

He and Christine stood face to face for the first time. For a moment, they just looked at each other.

Suddenly, however, someone knocked on the door. When Erik heard Raoul's voice from the other side, his features hardened.

He held out a gloved hand. "Come, Christine."

xxxxx

Christine vaguely heard someone knocking on the door and shouting her name, but she ignored it. Finally, at long last, she was getting her first look at her Erik. He was tall, and dressed all in black. Odd color for an angel, Christine thought, but then brushed it away. His face—the half she could see, anyway, was angelically beautiful.

The other half, however, was covered in a porcelain half-mask. She frowned slightly. Why would he be wearing a mask? Was it symbolic, or was there a reason for it?

Without her even noticing, Erik had led her through the mirror. As soon as she was through, he turned and snapped the mirror shut behind her.

Now, for the very first time since she had first heard him, Christine wondered if Erik wasn't an angel.

As her mind skimmed over the things that had happened between them so recently, she couldn't help but wonder…

Angels weren't supposed to be like this, were they? Not any angel she had ever heard about, anyway… and, though she hated to admit it, she had been too willing to believe he was an angel in the first place.

But she wouldn't accept that. Not yet. She had to hear it from him first…

As he took her hand once more to lead her down the dark passageway, she hesitantly said, "You're not an angel, are you, Erik?"

He stopped walking, and wouldn't turn to face her. After a moment, he softly whispered, "No. No, Christine, I am not your Angel of Music. I never was."

Christine withdrew her hand from his. He let it go, still not daring to turn and look at her. She fought back the tears that were suddenly welling up in her eyes. _No sense in grieving for something that never was._

Slowly, the realization hit her. _Really_ hit her. How _stupid_ she had been! How completely _stupid!_ She couldn't believe that she had actually thought that this man was the Angel of Music! She had been so wrapped up in believing that her father would send her the Angel that she had refused to believe the truth — there _was_ no Angel of Music, and there never had been one!

Christine looked back up at Erik, and her frown deepened. She could just barely make out his shape in the utter darkness, but she could tell that he still had his back to her. Suddenly all of the sadness and embarrassment were gone from her, and all that was left was cold anger.

_How _dare_ he! He had taken complete advantage of her! _Yes, it was partly her fault for being stupid enough—_desperate_ enough—to believe him, but that still gave him no right to do what he had done to her!

"You _lied_ to me." Her voice was cold and filled with hate, even to her own ears. "You _tricked_ me! Who are you really? No, don't answer that. How will I know you won't just lie _again_? I refuse to be tricked twice in the same way! How _dare_ you do that to me! I _trusted _you…I was actually stupid enough to _trust_ in you! You deceived me; you made me look like a complete idiot to all of my friends! Meg must have thought I was mentally unstable… talking about an angel my dead father had sent me! And Raoul... _Raoul!_" Christine fell to her knees, no longer holding back her tears.

xxxxx

Erik couldn't look at Christine as she screamed accusations at him. He couldn't answer. They were all true…every one of them.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think. _What had he done?_

Suddenly he heard her fall to her knees behind him, and start crying. Erik froze, not able to bear the sound.

Silently he turned to face her. Her head was buried in her hands, and her entire body was shaking as it was wracked with her sobs.

Erik couldn't take it anymore. He would do anything—_anything_—to make it up to Christine. He knew, deep down, that she'd never forgive him. No one ever did.

Gently he kneeled down beside her and, after a moment of hesitation, laid a hand on her shoulder.

xxxxx

Christine hadn't even heard him approach her. She didn't think he would dare to get near to her now—not after what he had done to her! Hadn't he harmed her enough!

When she felt the pressure on her shoulder, however, she was brought back to earth. She viciously slapped his hand away. "Don't you _touch_ me! Don't even get near me! I _hate_ you! I **_hate_ **you!" she yelled, knowing she sounded like a child having a temper tantrum, and not even caring. "You _monster_, I **hate **you!"

Through glazed eyes, she saw him jerk back almost involuntarily, as if he had been struck. The pain in his eyes was evident.

'_Good,'_ Christine thought savagely.

For a moment there was silence between them, and then she heard _his_ voice saying dispassionately, "Get up, Christine. You promised you would stay with me for three days, no matter what. You're not going to go back on your word, now are you?"

Christine gritted her teeth and stood, brushing her dress off slightly. "No." she said coolly. She watched the hurt flair up in his eyes again, and then get pushed away.

"Good." his voice, his beautiful, angelic voice, sounded even more distant than it had before. He turned away and began off into the darkness.  
Christine stumbled after him, not able to see. He didn't even look back at her once. Suddenly, she wished she hadn't said those cruel things. Even if he _had_ tricked her, it was clear he hadn't wanted to harm her in any way. _Still_, she thought, trying to keep the anger, _he took advantage of my situation!_

No matter how hard she tried, however, she couldn't stay angry at him. In the time when she had found out that he wasn't actually an angel, she had conveniently forgotten how much he had helped her. Finally, she said, "Erik…is that your name?"

"It is."

"Then I… I…" she faltered, "I didn't mean…what I said. You have to understand, though…" she had stopped walking again, and the grief overwhelmed her. "F-father… he promised me… and I _so_ wanted to believe him!" she felt the hot tears begin to stream down her cheeks again. "I…I didn't want to think I was alone. I wanted to believe he was still there, that he had sent me the Angel of Music, that I would have someone to _rely_ on, someone to trust!" she choked, then continued, "But I was wrong, and now what I've always feared would happen had come to pass. I'm alone. I'm _alone_." She tried to stop her tears, but failed.

"You're not alone, Christine." Erik said softly. He closed the distance between them, and lifted her chin to make her look at him. "You will never, ever be alone, not as long as I live. I can promise you that much."

Christine stared back at him. "Thank you." To her surprise, she realized she meant it. Perhaps some part of her was still convinced he was her Angel, or perhaps she realized how very much Erik meant what he said.

"Christine… I know you cannot forgive me for tricking you." he said softly, "I really did not want to hurt you…in fact, I wanted to help you. You looked so lost and alone in the Opera House that I couldn't help but try to comfort you. I…" he trailed off, and began to turn away from her.

Christine stopped him. So maybe he wasn't the Angel of Music. Maybe he hadn't been sent from her father. But he was still_ Erik_. He was still the one who had taught her, who had, for a brief amount of time, made her forget about her father's death. He was still the one who had made her prima donna…

"Erik," she said softly, "I understand. And thank you, again. She reached up and touched his cheek. "Please forgive me for what I said back there? I don't know what hurt you so much, but I can promise that I didn't mean it."

A haunted look came to his eyes… golden, she noticed…why hadn't she seen that before? And they almost seemed to glow in the dark… and he nodded. "No, Christine, you didn't mean it. Not yet."

Then, before she could say anything, he gently took her arm and led her down the rest of the passageway.

At the other end, Christine was surprised to see, there was a vast lake. Erik helped her into the boat, and then got in behind her and pushed off.

* * *

(A/N: Nope, no cliffhanger. This didn't end where I wanted it to, either. In fact, I really didn't like this chapter at all, and I might rewrite it. I'll see what kind of reviews I get for it, and tomorrow morning I might take it down. Make sure to check if you read it before then that I haven't changed it. There is a chance, by the way, that the next chapter will be fluffy. It depends on how I'm feeling, I suppose. Anyway, thank you, and please review!)

Hilary -


	16. The Curiosity that Killed the Cat

(A/N: I'm so sorry about the long wait in between updates! I have a huge English project I've been working on, and a chorus program took up all of Saturday, and then on Sunday was my friend's birthday… ((sighs)) Don't worry, I'll try harder to update more! I'm basing Erik's lair more on the book version, definitely _not_ on the movie version, where his home is a hole cut into the wall. --

But you might be forgiven if you get us two chapters at once.

monroe-mary, in a review for my other humor phic, "The Grand Tour"

Well, there's an idea! Okay, will you all forgive me if I update twice? Then I will. Twice it is!

Oh, and for whoever asked, Yes, I'm the Hilary from "For the Love of a Phantom." ((cackles evilly)) no one realizes how insane I really am. They have no idea! ((breaks out into maniacal laughter)) ((Looks around to make sure there's no one there)). Yeah, I'm writing this in my secluded cave at the moment, since Kate told the men in white where I was. ((grumbles)) But it's okay, cause Gerry's here. ((pets Gerry)) ((Gerry purrs)) Good little boiling water creature!

… Maybe I should start writing now…

((Clears throat)) Anyway…

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen: The Curiosity that Killed the Cat**

For the longest time, Raoul couldn't get the door open. It was either locked, or stuck. He tried calling out Christine's name, but there was no answer. He thought he heard voices, but he couldn't be sure.

Losing all patience, and worried sick that something would happen to Christine, Raoul flung himself against the door. Finally, the door opened. Raoul quickly looked around the room, and then frowned.

There was no one there.

The room was completely empty, and yet… he could have sworn he'd heard Christine's voice just a moment ago… He was sure of it! He didn't see any sign of that "Erik" fellow she had talked about, either.

So what had happened? Where had she—they—gone? There was no other way out besides the door, was there?

xxxxx

The boat hit the shore with a muffled thudding noise, and Erik swiftly jumped out and turned to help Christine.

Christine took his hand and let him help her out, all the while staring at her surroundings. They just stood there for a moment, until Christine finally blurted out, "Your artwork…it's amazing!"

Erik smiled slightly. He hadn't been sure what her initial reaction would be, but he hadn't expected anything good. "Thank you. I spent a lot of time creating this place. Come." He extended his arm, and she took it.

Erik led her up to the doors to his home, and let her in first. The inside of his home was just as beautiful—if not more beautiful—than the outside was. The walls and ceiling were covered in paintings that, Christine assumed, were done by Erik himself.

There were so many doors down the long hallway that she lost count. Erik continued to lead her deeper inside, until finally he stopped before a door and opened it.

Christine went inside first, and gasped. At one end there was an organ that dominated the entire wall. The rest of the room had shelves with all kinds of instruments on them. There were at least ten different violins, with beautiful designs that must have taken endless days to carve. Without thinking, Christine reached out and traced a few of the designs. The violins reminded her of her father, and she had to force the tears back.

"Do you like it?" Erik asked softly. It took her a moment to realize he was talking about the room. She nodded.

"I spend most of my time in this room. I've dedicated my life to my music."

Christine smiled just a little bit teasingly, "So, in a way, you really _are_ the Angel of Music."

There was a pause, and then, "I suppose you could say that."

Christine made her way over to the organ. "May I hear you play?"

Erik hesitated for a moment, and then crossed over to her and sat down on the bench, removing his gloves as he did so. Then, he set his hands on the keys and began to play.

Instantly, Christine lost herself in the music. Erik was a master at playing the organ, and for a moment she could almost believe that, after all, he _was_ the angel of music.

When he ended the piece, Christine realized that she had been holding her breath. There was a moment of silence, and both of them were perfectly still.

Then Erik removed his hands from the organ and stood.

"No—" Christine began immediately, then stopped, blushing.

Erik froze and looked at her, slightly confused. "What is it? Is there something wrong?"

Her blush deepened. "No, nothing's wrong, I just… wanted you to keep playing. I mean, you don't have to—"

He crossed over to her and placed a finger to her lips, then turned and sat back down at the organ. Then he began to play another song.

Christine sat down beside the bench and listened, her eyes half closed. When Erik finished that song, he went right into another one, not even pausing between them.

Christine lost track of time. She didn't know how long they sat like that—Erik faithfully playing song after song on the organ, and her dozing by his side.

She was almost asleep when her eyes were suddenly drawn to his mask. It might have been the strange way that the candlelight played over it, or maybe it was just her own curiosity catching up with her in her drowsiness, but she had the sudden urge to remove it from his face.

For a moment she dazedly played with the idea, and then decided against it. He probably wore the mask for a reason, and would tell her in time.

For now, she decided, it was better left untouched.

Christine tried to drift back off to sleep, but every time she was almost there, she was brought back by the thought of his mask.

It was foolish, idle curiosity, but it wouldn't let her go to sleep. Her mind searched around for a reason that she would be able to take the mask off, but failed to find one.

Christine sleepily looked up at Erik. He was into the music, swaying gently with the rhythm. Surely he wouldn't notice if she just took a quick peek…

She was about to reach for it, but then stopped herself. It was wrong. She couldn't take his mask off—he obviously trusted her not to. Even thinking about trying to like she was now was betraying his trust.

Christine, instead, sat down on the bench beside him and leaned her head on his shoulder, trying once more to drift off to sleep. Erik didn't even miss a beat. She was ready to bet he didn't even notice that she had moved up next to him. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, losing herself in the music again.

Yet still, even though she knew it was wrong, her sub-conscious wouldn't leave her alone. What was Erik hiding from her? Surely, if he loved her, he wouldn't mind if she took his mask off. After all, if she was to love him as much as she had when he was her angel, he couldn't keep secrets from her.

Relationships were mostly based on trust, weren't they?

Certainly Erik would understand that she didn't want secrets between them, that this was only a way to further their relationship.

Clearly he wouldn't mind if she just took a quick look? He probably wouldn't even ever know that she did so! He was so lost in the music right now, that he hadn't felt her sit down beside him… so, by all rights, he wouldn't feel her remove the mask.

So, her heart telling her it was wrong the entire time, Christine reached up and touched the surface of his mask.

She looked at Erik. He was still completely lost in the music, and didn't feel her touch.

Christine moved her fingers over to the edge of the porcelain, and then lost heart. This was wrong… she _knew_ it was wrong! It was a violation of Erik's privacy… and yet, she needed to know.

Christine closed her eyes and began to pry the edge of the mask off…

There was a sudden silence as the music stopped. Quick as lightning, Erik's hand came up and grabbed her wrist, twisting it painfully.

Christine cried out in agony and let go of the edge of his mask. For a moment she thought he had broken her wrist, but then she realized she could still move it. She couldn't hold back a slight whimper at the pain, though, and Erik promptly released her.

There was a long moment of silence as Christine cradled her wrist. She didn't dare look up at Erik. She knew he was upset with her, and rightly so. _Why had she done it? She had known it was wrong!_

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she brought her eyes up to meet his.

His golden eyes were ablaze with anger and hurt. She saw his despair at her betrayal in them, and she wanted to try and comfort him.

But she couldn't. This was all of her fault in the first place.

"E-Erik… I… I'm sorry, I… didn't mean—"

"Don't you _ever_," his voice came out in a low hiss, "_Ever_ try that again."

There was another pause where neither said anything. Finally, Erik broke it, his voice cool and distant.

"Come with me. I will take you to your room."

* * *

(A/N: Yeah, I think it might be kind of short, but I'm updating twice, so I think it's okay… right? Hopefully, anyway. The next update will probably be up in about an hour or two.)

—Hilary


	17. Trust and Betrayal

(A/N: Ta-daa! I promised two updates, and here's the second one! Now, everyone say thank you to monroe-mary! ((There is a chorus of 'thank-yous')) Now everyone get upset because this one has a worse cliffhanger than the other one did! ((crickets)) Fine. Be that way. ((cries)) But just for that I won't update for ANOTHER week! AHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! ((suddenly realizes this is HER phic, and she's supposed to pretend she _isn't_ insane on here)) … oh… yeah…

((Hands a tomato to Gerry, who growls at it)) It's a veggie, isn't it Gerry?

((Gerry nods))

HA! I _KNEW_ IT!

Ahem. Chapter Seventeen. Right.

Oh, one more note…**IMPORTANT!**: **CHRISTINE DID NOT MANAGE TO GET HIS MASK OFF! **Someone said that I didn't describe his face… well, that's because she never saw it. She was **_about_** to remove the mask, **but Erik stopped her. **Phew. There. I hope you guys all saw that!

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen: Trust and Betrayal**

Erik led Christine down the twisting halls to the room he had chosen for her, not even looking at her. _How dare she? _This was probably the last time he'd ever get to see her, and she was trying to ruin it!

He stopped at her door, unlocked it, and then let her inside. She turned to say something to him, but he shut the door in her face.

Erik strode back down the hallway to the music room and, in his rage, failed to close and lock the door. He slid down onto the bench before his organ and began to play angrily on it, putting all of his emotions into the music.

_Why?_ Why had she tried to take his mask off? He had caught her before she was able to, but the betrayal of it still hurt. Didn't she understand?

His mask was the one thing that was between him and the rest of the world. It was the only protection he had against the cruelty of reality. If she saw his face, she would be just like everyone else—afraid of the monster.

Her words in the hallway came back to him. _"You monster, I **hate **you!" _

Yes, she would be just like everyone else, and he couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear to see the fear and disgust in her eyes, as he remembered seeing in his mother's so long ago. Why had this happened to him? He had been perfectly fine all alone in his lair… why had he gone and meddled in things that were better off left alone?

He thought he heard something, but brushed it off as probably his cat, Ayesha. Erik went back to playing on his organ.

xxxxx

When Erik had left her in the room, she turned to say something—_anything_—to him so that he wouldn't be so upset, but he had shut the door in her face.

Hurt and alone, Christine had collapsed into a chair in the corner of the room. After a while, she had decided to seek him out. She wouldn't be able to sleep well knowing he was angry with her.

As quietly as she could, Christine slipped out of her room and down the hallway. She was anxious she wouldn't remember which of the doors led to the music room, but found she needn't have worried.

Erik had apparently left the door to the music room open, and she could hear him pounding furiously on the organ. She winced. This was probably a bad time, and he most likely wouldn't even listen to her. But she _had _to try!

Christine took a deep breath, and then walked into the room. She froze when the door creaked, but Erik didn't look up. After a moment, she inwardly berated herself for being so jumpy. Why would it matter if Erik knew she was here, anyway? Wasn't that what she was here for?

No. That wasn't why she was here, and she knew it. She was here because, in spite of everything, she wanted—_needed_—to know what was behind his mask. Her curiosity had been only encouraged when he reacted so violently. _What was he hiding from her?_

Christine cursed her curiosity and shoved it to the back of her mind. She couldn't get him even angrier than he was now! Wasn't it bad enough that she had tried to betray him… did she actually _have _to?

His back was still to her, and he was immersed in his music. He didn't even know she was there… This was her chance. Erik would not realize what had happened until it was too late.

Christine took a step towards him, and then forced herself to a stop. _NO! _She wouldn't! She _couldn't_. She could only imagine his anger and hurt if she betrayed him twice. He had a reason for hiding his face—couldn't she just let him be?

Almost against her will, she took another step forward. It wasn't fair! Hadn't there been enough lies and deceit between them? Hadn't he kept enough secrets from her?

Once again, she forced herself to a halt. What was she doing? She was supposed to be making amends, not making things worse! Everyone had secrets…Erik would show her this one when he was ready. Until then, she _had_ to let him be!

But didn't he trust her? Didn't he even love her enough to realize that she wouldn't hold what he _looked_ like against him? She assumed that he hid the right side of his face due to some kind of deformity. Surely that's why his reaction had been so vicious.

Looks didn't matter, it was what was inside that counted! She would just have to show him that it didn't matter. If that required removing his mask… then so be it.

xxxxx

Erik slowly got more relaxed as he played. He couldn't stay mad at Christine for long. After all, she hadn't even succeeded in removing the mask.

It was natural for her to be curious about it…anyone would be. Neither of them had even mentioned it since the first time she'd seen him, but he knew she had probably wondered. Christine had probably even guessed that he was deformed—she just didn't know how badly.

She didn't understand that, because of his face, he had been beaten, scorned, laughed at, mocked… She couldn't understand that because of his face he had been forced to live underground, away from the world.

Because of his face, no one—not even his mother—had ever loved him. All of his life he had been despised and abused, simply because of his appearance.

He even hated himself for it. There was, perhaps, no one more repulsed by his face than he himself—and he had to live with it every day of his life.

He was forced to live with the fact that he would never lead a normal life, that he would never have friends, or lovers. He had to live with the knowledge day by day that, when he died, no one would know… and no one would care.

And then there was Christine. Finally, there was a tiny ray of hope that a person would care for him. They hadn't had the best of starts, but he was determined to fix that. In time, she might turn into his only friend… maybe, he even dared to hope, she could come to love him.

This all hung on the balance of his mask, however. She could never see his face, or else she would be like everyone else. He had no doubt of that.

But he trusted her. Surely after his last outbreak, she wouldn't try to remove his mask again. She would know better now.

He would apologize to her in the morning. She was probably upset about his outbreak, and he didn't want her to fret about it. He thought about getting up and apologizing to her right away, but he didn't want to wake her if she was asleep.

Confident that tomorrow they could start over again, and that for once in his life, he had the possibility of being happy, Erik launched into a more peaceful song.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts and the music that he failed to hear Christine come up behind him.

xxxxx

Christine stopped immediately behind Erik and took a shaky breath. She was nervous, and rightfully so. There was no telling how angry he'd be after she did this.

She collected herself. There was no going back now… she had to do this. Their relationship wouldn't be able to grow at all with this secret in the way, and she knew it. She wouldn't have a chance at coming to love him unless there weren't any secrets between them.

If there was one thing Christine couldn't stand, it was lying and deceitfulness. She couldn't love Erik until she made sure that he wouldn't lie to her again, and she couldn't care for him until she knew why he was so upset over her trying to see his face.

If he loved her as much as he said he did, he would understand that. If he cared for her, than he should have more faith in her, and not think that she would base her emotions on anything as petty as an outward appearance.

With that last thought in her mind, Christine reached forward and snatched the mask away from Erik's face.

* * *

(A/N: ((Bows)) Thank you, thank you! Don't you all just _love_ me for that cliffhanger? Now please review, or I won't update for ANOTHER week… or worse, a MONTH! ((breaks out into maniacal laughter)) Bye for now, everyone, and don't forget to review!) 

Hilary


	18. Blind Rage

(A/N: Yes, I know my last two chapters weren't my best ever. Hopefully this will get better. The last two were written pretty much when I was depressed, and though I tried my hardest, they didn't quiet live up to standard. I'm sorry. Hopefully this chapter is pretty good, anyway.

One more thing—just to warn you, however stupid this may sound, I've never cussed in my life. No, not even in writing. This is the first time I'm going to use cussing, because for some reason I can't see Erik screaming "Darn you to heck!" in his rage. Anyway, I _tried_, and I hope I did okay.

**_Warning_**—this next scene might get a little bit violent. I've raised the rating to T, in case you haven't noticed yet.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen: Blind Rage**

Erik froze, and the world seemed to freeze over as well. _Christine…_ She had taken off his mask. He carefully stayed turned away from her at first, not wanting to see her horrified reaction. _Why? Why now? Why was fate always so cruel to him? He had almost hoped… but no._

Slowly the sorrow melted away, and cold, blind fury took its place. How DARE she? After all he had tried to do! —He'd even _warned_ her not to! She still just _had_ to know, didn't she? Well then, she _would_ know! Curse her! _Damn_ her! How dare she do this to him! Erik seethed, and whirled to face Christine.

His face was cast into the light. The appalled look on Christine's face only made him angrier.

"_DAMN you!"_

xxxxx

Christine immediately fell back, horrified and frightened. Erik advanced on her, his terrible face twisted into a sneer of rage.

His face! God, what had she done? He had the face of a demon! The left half was pure and untouched… but the right half of his face! She shuddered.

His skin was yellowish and pale, stretched tightly over the bones in his face. The right half of his nose was so sunken in that it seemed to disappear altogether. The parchment-like skin failed to even reach the top of his forehead, where the bone showed.

To Christine's horror, the demon-like visage before her began to laugh. It was not the light, airy laugh of humor, but the laughter of a mad man.

Erik took another step closer to her, and Christine tried to take another step back. She tripped on the hem of her gown and fell to the ground.

Suddenly Erik leaned down and grabbed her arms, digging his nails into them. She cried out, both in pain and fear. "Look at me!" Erik cried wildly, yanking her chin upwards. She closed her eyes, unable to bear it.

"You wanted to see me! You wanted to view the face behind the mask! Now look—See!" He shook her violently. "_Look at me, damn you!"_

Christine tried to hold back a whimper, but failed. Slowly, she forced her eyes open.

His face was barely an inch away from hers, and she nearly fainted in terror. _"Satisfied?_" he hissed. "Well? ARE YOU?"

Christine tried to pull back, but Erik gripped her even harder. "Oh no! You're not going anywhere—not now! Anyone who sees my face may never see the light of day again!"

She struggled harder in his grip, begging for mercy. Erik viciously ran his hands through her curls, dragging her closer to him. Christine tried to hold her tears back, but her attempts were in vain.

"Ah! I frighten you! Yes, well, what did you expect from a _monster_? You were very right by calling me that in the tunnels! Is this what you expected? I daresay not… Look now, you're crying—_crying—_well, go on and cry Christine! See how far that gets you!"

Christine tried to stop, but couldn't. Instead, her sobs grew louder in spite of herself.

"Ah, but perhaps you think that I'm wearing another mask? Then go on and tear this one off like you did the other! Come on, I won't take no for an answer! Try…just _try!_" Erik snatched her hands and put them to his face, digging her nails into his flesh.

Christine cried out as his blood splattered her fingers. Her nails left bloody streaks behind them, but he continued to rigorously dig them into his skin, all the while willing her to remove the mask.

And then, to her dismay and amazement, he began to cry.

"Why, Christine? Why did you have to know? Now I can't let you go—I can't! If you hadn't seen my face, perhaps you would have returned willingly, but now… now…" Erik let her go and turned away, trembling.

Christine just sat there for a long time, feeling sick, dizzy, and somewhat dazed. _This was all her fault!_ What compelled her to remove his mask? She turned her gaze back to Erik, and unthinkingly reached out to him.

His back was turned, however, and he didn't see. Christine pulled her hand back before he could, shivering. If anything, his temper scared her more than his face did. His face… to be truthful, it terrified her. She had never seen anything more horrible in her life, and yet… Yet she couldn't hold it against him. She would let herself…after all; he couldn't help what he looked like.

But his temper… that was a different matter. He had the power to control himself, at least! And yet, he didn't. She knew he was angry… he had a right to be angry! But still… She turned her gaze to his shaking form and shuddered.

Could she forgive him? Even more important, could _he_ ever forgive _her_?

Christine looked down and her eyes connected with a flash of white. She reached out and tenderly picked up the porcelain mask that had hid Erik from the world.

She stared down at it for a moment, and then slid over to where he sat. She tried to turn him to face her, but he wouldn't. There was blood everywhere on him, and she knew that it wasn't hers.

"Erik," she said softly, so quiet she almost couldn't hear herself, "Please… I didn't mean… I'm sorry."

He didn't answer, and tears came to her eyes. She didn't deserve to be forgiven, and she knew it. Yet, she had still hoped that maybe…maybe…

Christine laid a hand on his shoulder, and he stiffened beneath her touch. Gently, she wedged the simple, innocent-looking mask into his lap.

He must have seen it, but he did nothing, still turned from her.

xxxxx

Erik watched as his tears mingled with the blood on his face. Christine was sitting right beside him, he could sense her there. He couldn't turn to face her, though. Not after what he had done… she must hate him. She had to. He had seen the terror in her eyes, and he hadn't cared. Her white gown was covered in his blood, and there were nail marks on her arms.

She'd never trust him again, that much was for sure.

Erik felt Christine set something in his lap, and he looked down. It was his mask. What did that mean? Did it mean, simply, that she never wanted to see his face again? Or was she just trying to comfort him?

Probably the former. He doubted she cared for him in the least anymore. Not after that. Erik didn't touch the mask, wishing that Christine would disappear, and that he had never even heard of her name.

Curse her… He realized now just how much he had loved her. Now… now that he had no chance of winning her love. He had scared her away… permanently.

Finally he reached down and took the mask in his hands, and lifted it to cover the bloody, torn right side of his face.

Not turning to look at Christine, he stood and walked over to the organ. Obediently, she followed him. He sat down and still didn't look at her.

"Go back to your room, Christine."

She didn't move. "But—"

"Go."

Christine bit her lip, and moved closer to him. "Erik, I—"

"JUST GO!"

She fled.

Erik stared down at the organ, not even touching it. He couldn't keep Christine locked up here forever. At the end of the third day of her… her imprisonment… here, he would take her back up to her room.

Until then, she would see nothing of him. It was for the best.

Erik stood and disappeared into one of his passageways. When he was safe inside the darkness, he removed the mask, and then walked into a small room that contained a basin of water, a damp cloth… and a mirror.

He didn't dare look at the mirror as he dipped the cloth into the water and dabbed the blood off of his face. He ignored the sting, and finished cleaning the wounds.

As he was about to put the mask back on, however, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror. There was a pause, as golden eyes met golden eyes.

Then, in a wash of fury, he raised his fist and smashed it into a thousand glittering pieces.

* * *

(A/N: I hope that one was okay, even though I had to write part of it in school Anyway, PLEASE review! I want to know what you think!)

—Hilary


	19. Deadly Silence

(A/N: Okay, finally, here's the next update! I'm on a roll right now, and have the next chapters planned out to almost perfect detail. Anyway, the next one will probably be up either today ortomorrow sometime. Thank you for the awesome reviews last chapter! I'm glad that you liked it!)

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen: Deadly Silence**

Christine woke up the next morning in the room Erik had provided for her. At least, she thought it was morning. She couldn't be completely sure, as everything was as dark as it had been the night before.

Actually, it was _darker_ than it had been the night before, for all of the candles and torches had been extinguished. Christine took a deep breath and closed her eyes. There was no reason to fear the darkness, and she knew it. Yet, she couldn't help but feel rising panic inside of her. When she had been little, she had always insisted that her father leave a candle burning by her bedside at night, so that she would be able to go to sleep, comforted by the tiny light in the darkness.

But she was no longer little, and her father was no longer there. The candles had all burnt out, and she was alone… completely alone.

Christine shivered at the feeling. The entire place felt deserted. Before she even got out of bed, she knew that she wouldn't see any sign of Erik, and after what she had done to him… she didn't blame him for avoiding her.

Christine scrambled around in the darkness, feeling for anything that could help her see. Almost immediately, her hand came in contact with a few, thick wax candles on her beside table. Along with them were a few boxes of matches. She carefully lit the candle, and held it up so that its warm glow could enfold the entire room. By its dim light, she noticed an envelope on the edge of her bed.

She grabbed the envelope and slit it open, then unfolded the note inside.

_Dear Christine:_

_You will be provided with everything you might need. The hallways are lit and you will be able to see. Breakfast will be waiting for you down the hallway and to your right. It is the only door that is unlocked, so it should be easy enough to find. Do not be frightened of running into me by accident. I am away at the moment, and will not be back for some time. You may amuse yourself by reading the books provided in your room._

The note was not signed. Either he didn't know how to sign it any longer, or he thought Erik was too informal, or he was just in too much of a hurry.

Christine frowned at the note, trying to think of what she _knew_ was wrong with it. There was something that seemed odd and out of place. Of course, the sentences were short and to the point, which was odd, but then he probably didn't want to take much time bothering to write to her. She ignored the part that said he was away altogether. She seriously doubted he had even left the house, but she knew he was right in saying she wouldn't run into him. He was probably behind one of the locked doors—out of her reach, like everything else.

Suddenly it hit her. His notes were usually a bit sloppy, with the letters all disconnected—but today, they were written as if his fingers didn't know how to hold a pen. Christine traced over his letters, a frown etched onto her face. Why was it so stiff? It looked as if he were in pain as he were writing… which would explain the short sentences, and the shortness of the note altogether.

Christine gently set the note back down onto her beside table, then got up and headed towards the door.

The first thing she noticed about his house was the silence. Not a sound was uttered as, candle held high over her head, she made her way down the hallway. She supposed that she was used to the sounds of the opera when she woke up, and the hustle-bustle of the ballerinas getting ready for the days' practice.

Even when she had been in here, though, the place had been full of Erik's music. Now, there was nothing but the drip of lake water, and the crackle from the flame of the candle she held. Even her breath seemed loud and out of place.

She was amazed to find that she feared the silence even more than she had the darkness. Darkness she could bear, if it was full of music—the horrifying combination of both nearly scared her senseless.

Still, she took a deep breath and kept walking. If the candle went out, she knew she wouldn't be able to take one more step. Right now, it was her only tiny light in the vast darkness that surrounded her.

As she walked, her footsteps echoed strangely, making the place seem even more deserted. Deep inside, however, Christine knew that it wasn't. Erik was here, somewhere, even if he wasn't making a sound. Surprisingly, the thought almost comforted her.

Finally she reached a slight turn in the hallway, and reached for the nearest door. She was relieved that she had found the right room on the first try.

The room was rather tiny, but quaint. It had tasteful designs on the walls, and there was a small dining table in the middle of the room.

On top of the table, there was a tray of food and a glass of wine. It was more than she could eat, but not extensively more. None of the food was hot, and none of it was the type that needed to be cooked. She guessed that Erik probably didn't have a way to cook foods, so he stuck to simple things that could be eaten cold.

Christine placed her candle in the holder, and resignedly sat down to breakfast alone. She had known that he wouldn't eat with her—but she had hoped. She couldn't _stand_ the feeling that she was completely alone.

She grew more and more tense and jumpy during the meal, the darkness and silence beginning to get to her. She ate as quickly as she could, not sure what she would do next, but wanting to find something that made sound.

Finally, she was finished her breakfast. She grabbed the candle and fled the room, trying every other door in the hallway.

Door after door she found locked. She barely resisted the urge to fling herself at them, and crash them open—anything besides the seemingly endless hallway. She had tried to go back to the room which she ate in, but found she didn't know which way to go.

With rising terror, she realized she didn't know the way to her room either.

She continued to try opening the doors—conveniently forgetting that Erik had told her that they were all locked. He must have forgotten at least _one_.

She recognized the music room when she reached it, and knew she shouldn't even bother to try and open it. She tried anyway. It was locked.

Christine continued in this fashion until she wanted to collapse in the middle of the hallway and cry. She refused to let herself, however, and kept walking. She had to find her room_ eventually_.

Then the horrifying realization that she might be going in circles came to her. She could go on forever! Christine began to run, still checking all of the doors.

Then to her amazement, a doorknob turned. She froze. It wasn't locked! Relief washed over her, and she pushed the door open.

It wasn't her room.

Christine blinked as the entire place began to light itself, torches that she couldn't see flaring into existence. Something must have triggered when she opened the door. Thrilled that she was in a well-lit room at last, Christine dropped the candle and stepped inside.

In her joy, she failed to notice that the door shut by itself behind her, blending right into the rest of the room.

After her initial happiness was over, Christine began to study the place that she had stumbled into. She came to the conclusion that she had never been in a stranger room in her life.

It was made entirely of mirrors, and in the very center there was a kind of metal tree. Christine couldn't begin to fathom what such a strange room could be used for. Then she noticed something even more strange… a kind of rope hung from one of the branches of the metal tree, tied into the shape of a noose.

Suddenly Christine didn't want to be in this room any longer. She turned to go, but the door had vanished. She took a deep breath, trying not to panic. There was absolutely nothing wrong with this room. There was nothing here to harm her.

She vaguely noticed that the room was getting hotter. But wait! Was she in a room?

Suddenly she was in the middle of a vast forest, forgetting as she panicked that the mirrors were just reflecting the tree in the middle of the room. Where was she? It was steadily getting warmer, and Christine began to sweat. She began to walk (though, unknowingly, in circles), but the forest never seemed to end!

Finally she collapsed, tired and dizzy. She was so thirsty…

Christine looked up and saw the noose. In her current condition, it was beginning to look rather friendly… She got up and began to walk towards it.

Just as she was about to place it around her neck, she realized with a sickening feeling just what she was doing. Slowly, she also remembered that she _wasn't_ in a forest…She was in a room in Erik's house!  
Christine staggered back from the noose, but as soon as she looked around, the illusion of a forest began to creep back…

Christine closed her eyes. If she didn't get out of here, she would end up killing herself! But she was alone, and there was no one to help her—No! That was wrong. Erik! Where was Erik? Surely he wasn't angry enough to let her die!

Christine gathered all of the strength she had left, and screamed, "ERIK!"

xxxxx

Erik stopped pacing the room he was in, listening intently. Was Christine calling his name? He shook it off. He had watched her roam the hallways, and had watched her get lost. Then he had stopped watching and assumed she had eventually found her room… but now that she was calling for him he changed his mind. She was probably still wandering around.

Erik desperately wanted to go to her and help her, but he knew he couldn't. He would probably just terrify her more! It was better for her to wander around and find her room by herself.

Suddenly he heard her call his name again.

His head snapped up, and he frowned. Her voice was full with pleading and terror… surely she wasn't _that_ afraid of being lost! He listened to her screaming, which was beginning to become more and more pitiful. Strange, the direction her voice was coming from… it was almost as if…

"ERIK! Please…_please_…I'll die!"

His heart stopped, as he suddenly realized…

_The Torture Room! He hadn't locked the Torture Room!_

Erik leapt to his feet and fled down the hallways, praying it wasn't too late…

* * *

(A/N: For those of you who haven't read the book, I proudly introduce Erik's Torture Room. I might update later today, I'm not sure. Keep an eye out, just in case!)

—Hilary


	20. A Visit from a Friend

(A/N: Lol… so much to do, so little time… ((sighs)) I wanted to put this up earlier and couldn't. Anyway, just because I can't resist, I _HAVE_ to put this in here… one of my favorite reviews was from **fell4adeadguy**… It simply said:

_Muahahahahahah Trees_

I stared at it for the longest time before bursting into fits of uncontrollable laughter. LOL! THANK YOU! I don't even know if you meant it to be funny… maybe I'm just in a weird mood…

* * *

**Chapter Twenty: A Visit from a Friend**

Christine stopped yelling at last, despair filling her. He couldn't hear her… her only hope was lost. She wanted to keep calling, to get louder, but by now her throat was too dry to even speak loudly, let alone shout.

She curled up on the floor and closed her eyes, trying her hardest to remember where she was. She couldn't give in to this! There was no tropical forest—not even any trees! This was just a room in Erik's house…

Christine heard a sound, but didn't dare look up. She was afraid that if she opened her eyes, the forest would appear again.

She kept her eyes shut tight, praying that the end was near…

xxxxx

Erik finally reached the torture room and paused outside of the door. He was afraid of what he would see inside. He quickly brushed that aside and opened the door…every second counted.

To his relief, Christine was curled up on the floor, her hands covering her face. Erik went over to her and gently helped her up, ignoring that the door had shut behind him. He knew exactly how to find it, anyway.

He shook her softly, but she didn't look up.

"Christine?"

xxxxx

"_Christine?"_

She opened her eyes and gazed up as she heard her name, hardly daring to believe that Erik had come. What if she was just hallucinating? What if it wasn't really him, but yet another cruel trick from this room?

The vision of Erik knelt down and without thinking wrapped its arms around her, not romantically, but in a comforting way. Christine's heart leapt when she realized she could feel him. It really _was_ Erik!

"Oh, Erik!" Christine turned towards him and buried her head in his shirt. She tried to hold back her tears, but couldn't… this room terrified her beyond belief.

Erik held her awkwardly, not prepared for this response. He carefully helped her to her feet, and then guided her out of the room. When the door had finally shut behind them, Christine looked up, as if to make sure they were truly out. She took a deep, shuddering breath, and then realized something.

"Erik… What was that room?"  
"What do you mean?" he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"That room! Why is it in your house? What's it for?" Christine stopped and turned to him, but he still wouldn't look her in the face.

"It's nothing, Christine. Forget about it… that room is a part of my past I would rather not bring up."

Christine chewed on her lip for a moment, and then decided not to say anything more about it… for now. She wouldn't forget it, though… that room had nearly _killed _her! Erik led her back to her room, and let her inside. Abruptly she noticed something wrong. "Erik… why are your hands bandaged?"

She got the feeling he was becoming just the slightest bit irritated with her inquiries. "Enough questions. It's not of your concern." Then he turned to go.

"No!" Christine cried out immediately. He couldn't leave her alone again… the silence would drive her insane! If he planned to keep her here forever, which was what he had told her, she didn't want that forever to be dark and still. That was a kind of hell of its own.

Erik, understanding the reason for her fear, walked over to the matches and candles he had left on her bedside table. He lit several torches and placed them in holders around the room until the entire place was lit.

"You may read for a little while." he told her softly, "I have business to attend to, but I will be back, if you need me."

Christine nodded. She felt slightly better now that the room was well lit. Suddenly a thought struck her, and she began to ask, "What business—" But he was gone.

xxxxx

Erik stepped into the boat that he had tied by his house. He was about to push off from the shore when suddenly he noticed something. Instantly, his eyes narrowed. Someone else had found the other emergency boat he had hidden on the opposite shore.

Erik quietly stepped out from the boat he had been about to push off in, and faded back into the shadows before the person could notice him. Quietly, he began to wade out into the water, confident that this person would not reach the other side.

Before he could submerge completely, however, he recognized the person in the boat. Erik frowned slightly, then backed out of the water and blended back in with the shadows.

He waited until the person had reached the shore, and tied the boat up. Then, without a sound, he crept up behind the man and hissed, "What are you doing here, daroga?"

xxxxx

Nadir spun around, slightly startled, knowing at the same time that he shouldn't be. He knew Erik too well to still jump every time he snuck up on him.

"Ah, my old friend. I was wondering when you were going to appear." All of a sudden Nadir took in Erik's damp clothes. An amused look came over his face. "Going to drown me, were you?"

Erik ignored the question, golden eyes blazing slightly. "I'll repeat myself, then—Why are you here?"

Nadir skittered around that question as well, and answered instead with another one. "Where is Christine Daae?"

Erik pretended he hadn't heard, and instantly said back, "How did you find me?"

The Persian smiled. "My friend, if you keep answering my questions with more questions, than I will gladly do the same for you. Why are your hands bandaged?"

There was a short pause, then Erik glowered and began to walk back towards his house, motioning for Nadir to follow. "We'll talk inside. I will answer your questions, if you answer mine."

"Fair enough…if you answer truthfully."

"And if I don't?"

Nadir sighed. He had figured this would be difficult, but he had forgotten just how belligerent Erik could be. "If you do not, then I shall not."

The two reached the music room, and Erik pushed the door open. "You first—Why are you here?"

xxxxx

Christine looked up from her book, frowning. She could have sworn she had heard people talking… After a moment, she shook it off. It was probably just the silence getting to her. A few minutes later, however, she heard the voices again. One was definitely Erik, but the other was accented, and she didn't recognize it.

As quietly as she could, she stood and crept down the hallway towards the voices. They were in the music room, that much she could see already. Christine hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was a good idea. Would Erik get angry if she listened in? Most likely… Then, however, she heard her name. She couldn't restrain herself, and instantly peered inside.

xxxxx

"Erik, I think you already know why I am here."  
"If it has something to do with Christine—"

"It does, but not just her. I was touring Paris—which answers your second question—when I heard of strange happenings in the Opera House. Of course, I couldn't help but investigate the situation—"  
"You always were sticking your nose where it wasn't needed." Erik sneered.

"At least I have one." Nadir quipped.

There was a moment of silence, and Erik gave the Persian a murderous glare.

"Shall I continue?" he asked, and then went on without waiting for an answer. "And I found quite a lot of evidence that led me to believe you were here. At first I wasn't sure it was you, but over time I became more and more convinced. When a stage hand balked at getting something from the fifth cellar, I began to figure out where you had made your home. After a bit of searching, I was successful in finding it. Still, I did nothing. Then there was the fiasco with La Carlotta—of course, I knew exactly who was behind it. But when I heard that Mademoiselle Daae went missing, I finally decided to pay you a visit. Erik, is she here?"

Erik didn't answer, but then, Nadir hadn't exactly expected him to. "When did you hear Christine was missing?"

"Yesterday evening. It was all over the newspapers… how the leading lady mysteriously disappeared after the gala."

"So why do you think that_ I _have her?" Erik demanded.

"I didn't think of you until I heard Monsieur de Chagny, the new patron, arguing with the managers. He seemed to think that Christine had been kidnapped by some kind of 'Angel of Music.'" Nadir waited for Erik to say something, but continued when he didn't. "Anyway, he told them that he was going to meet Christine, but one second she was in her dressing room, and the next she was gone. She hadn't used the door. I know how you love trapdoors, Erik, but I seriously hadn't thought of them until then. The mirror was very clever. It took me nearly three hours to discover how to open it. But then, I know your style… that's how it became obvious to me that you had used the mirror as a doorway in the first place."

Still Erik said nothing. Nadir sighed. "Please Erik, you haven't harmed her?"

Erik finally answered by shaking his head slightly. "No."

Relief showed clearly on the Persian's face. "What can you possibly want from her, then, Erik? The girl is probably traumatized…"

Erik winced. "She came here of her own free will. Daroga, I'm going to return her to the Opera tomorrow… I just…" he sighed. "I don't know what I wanted, daroga, and so I cannot tell you. Perhaps I just wanted someone else down here—"

"You're lonely?"

"Of course not! Besides, she was too curious for her own good. Right now she is in her room, probably wishing she could be as far away from this place as possible."

"She removed your mask?"  
"Stop those infernal guesses—I'm not going to tell you what happened, daroga, as it is none of your business!"

"Well then, if you will answer nothing else—why _are_ your hands bandaged?"  
"Mirror." Erik said simply.

Nadir winced. "Another one, Erik? I thought you were passed destroying mirrors. If they bother you so much, then why do you have them down here?"  
Erik sighed. "I tire of your endless questions, daroga. Perhaps you should go now."

Nadir stood. "Of course. But I may be back to visit soon, so kindly do not pull me into your lake. I don't like to swim."

Erik watched the Persian walk to the door, then turned and sat down at his organ. He gently stroked the keys, trying to quash the unwanted memories that Nadir's sudden appearance had stirred. _He couldn't live in the past any longer_.

xxxxx

Christine let out a silent gasp and stumbled backwards as the Persian man exited. There was no place for her to run and hide, and there was a moment of silence as their eyes met.

"Christine Daae?" Nadir asked at last.

Christine nodded, glancing nervously back at the door. She couldn't bear to let Erik know that she had overheard the conversation—she didn't want to upset him more than he already was.

"Christine…" Nadir hesitated, "If you wish, I can take you back to your dressing room. Erik might be angry with me, but it's a risk I am willing to take if you wish to be out of here…"

Christine hesitated, not sure of what she wanted. She knew that she didn't want Raoul and the managers to worry over her disappearance, but she couldn't stand the thought of Erik's condition if she just got up and left him without even a goodbye. Finally, her heart overruled her guilt, and she shook her head.

"No…I'll stay."

Nadir frowned thoughtfully at her, then nodded and walked off towards the front doors. Christine cast a worried look at the music room, and then headed in the opposite direction. Erik would never know she had left.

* * *

(A/N: For those of you who have not read the book, Nadir is pretty much the only friend Erik ever had. I think you've probably figured that out by now, though. Also, in the book Erik drowned people in his lake, pretending to be a siren. Thank you for reading, and PLEASE review! Review if you love Nadir! Review if you love Erik! That pretty much takes care of everyone… 

And if you have time, read stories by AmandatheVampireLove. They're really, really good. Anyway, PLEASE review. Please? ((puppy eyes))

Also, special thanks to XmadXgrisetteX wholooked overparts of this chapter to make sure it was okay.

Disclaimer: Nadir (or the Persian) belongs to Susan Kay and Gaston Leroux, not to me.

Hilary


	21. Why did You Stay?

(A/N: I'm sure most of you noticed by now that I wrote a modern-day phic, Illusions of the Heart. Don't worry, it will NOT interfere with this phic! I will continue to update this one as regularly as I ever had…which isn't regularly at all oh, btw, glad you all liked the nose comment in the last chapter. Would you believe that originally I wasn't going to put it in?

Lol, anyway… IMPORTANT! If you want the link to Gerry singing "No One Would Listen" the deleted scene from the movie, IM me at **Zifnabiskewl**. If I'm away, IM me still. It's in my away message.

Also, my last note, there was a tiny misconception at the end of my last chapter. I meant to say "Erik would never have known she was there" Not "Erik would never have known she had left" Whoops… I think I might have confused some of you there.

Okay, I lied… one more note. This is a somewhat fluffy chapter… so beware I'm sorry to those of you who don't like them, but if I make this E/C, I have to help them build their relationship first. The action comes later…)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-One: Why Did You Stay?**

Christine finally reached her room, and curled back up on the bed, thinking. She cursed herself for not asking more questions about Erik when she'd had the chance—She barely knew anything about him, and she just _knew_ that the Persian man would have the answers.

She burned his face into her memory so that if she ever saw him again, she'd be able to recognize him. She knew, at least, that _Erik_ wouldn't answer any of her questions.

She winced as she thought back to the conversation between the two men. She had wondered why Erik's hands were bandaged… she just hadn't guessed that it was also she who had been the cause of it. Deep down, Christine knew it wasn't really her fault, but if she hadn't gotten him so upset…

Christine reached over and picked up her discarded book, determined to lose her thoughts inside of its covers.

She was so immersed in the story that she didn't even realize it when Erik slipped into her room. For a moment, he lingered in the shadows, not wanting to frighten her. Finally, he stepped out into the light and cleared his throat.

xxxxx

Christine jumped and looked up, then quickly cast the book aside. "Erik?"  
For a moment he just looked at her, before saying, "I decided not to go anywhere for the time being. I ran into an old friend on the way out… but then, you already knew that, didn't you?" his eyes glinted.

Christine blinked, frowning. Slowly, however, she realized what he was implying… he had known she was there!

A blush crept across her cheeks, and she ducked her head so that he didn't see. Erik, however, crossed the room. After a moment of hesitation, he placed a hand under her chin and delicately lifted it up so they were eye to eye.

"I also know," Erik continued softly, "That he offered to take you back. He offered to take you away from this hell… and you refused. Why did you stay, Christine?"

Christine stared back at him for a moment, not sure how to answer. She was about to when he swiftly placed a finger to her lips.

"And tell me the truth," he warned, "I can see through your lies. Was it pity? Fear?"

"I-I don't know." Christine admitted shamefully. Was it because she was afraid he'd harm her? She wasn't sure. It was more probable that she pitied him, though. In his anger, he had never harmed her—at least, not badly—he had ended up hurting himself more. So perhaps it was fear…just not fear for _her_ safety.

There was a moment of silence, and then Erik stepped away, turning to leave. "Very well, then, I will see you tomorrow when I come to return you. Until then."

"No…wait!" Christine quickly reached out and grabbed his wrist. He turned back to face her with a confused, and somewhat irritated, expression on his face.

"What is it?"

"Your hands…I feel responsible…"

He snatched them away. "Don't." he said shortly. "It was my fault, not yours—"

"But if I hadn't gotten you upset, you wouldn't have… have…Please, just let me see—"

"Haven't you already seen enough?"

The angry retort rang between them, and Erik almost instantly regretted it. Christine winced, hurt.

Erik sighed, "Christine, believe me, it is not your fault. Please, don't worry about it."

"Erik, I won't give up until you let me. If you leave, I'll wander around until I find you. By the way, there wouldn't happen to be any _other_ murderous rooms that you left open for me? Because you might want to warn me this time before I accidentally walk into them and get trapped in there." her eyes flashed.

In turn, Erik grimaced. Finally, he gave in. He felt as if he owed her something for nearly killing her—though, of course, he didn't! The sooner this was over, the better. Tentatively, he held out his bandaged hands.

Christine couldn't help but smile slightly with triumph, which awarded her a glower from Erik. She carefully took a hold of his hands and began to remove the bandages from them, letting him sit down on the very edge of her bed as she did so.

Erik shifted uncomfortably, sitting as far away from her as possible.

Finally, Christine got the bandages off of his right hand, then his left, and gasped. His hands, which she remembered as being long, slender, and white, had angry red gashes on them. Some of them were rather deep, and bled freely as she held them. Her eyes widened as she noticed he hadn't even bothered to take out the glass that was embedded in them still. As a matter of fact, it would probably be difficult for him to manage that himself…

Erik began to pull his hands away, but Christine clung to them delicately, trying not to hurt him. "You didn't even take out the glass!" she exclaimed.

Erik shrugged dismissively, and attempted to move away again. Christine, however, wouldn't let him.

"Here, let me—"

"Christine, don't be foolish! Let me leave, and you will hear no more from me."

"But I—"

"_Please_, Christine." His eyes silently pleaded with her, and in them she saw his fear of being hurt for a second time. She flinched inwardly… would he never trust her again? If he didn't, she wouldn't blame him.

"Erik, I only want to help you, truthfully! Please just let me do this, and I will let you go. I won't ever forgive myself if you don't." She wouldn't ever forgive herself anyway…

After a moment, Erik gently pulled away. "You'll need water, and a damp cloth." he said at last. "Also a knife, unless you plan to pick the glass out with your fingernails."

Christine relaxed her grip and nodded. "Where can I find those things?"

Erik paused as he inwardly fought with himself one last time, then said, "Follow me."

* * *

(A/N: Yes, it's _incredibly _short. Sorry! The next chapter will also be a bit fluffy. After that, though, it's back to normal. :) But don't worry, for those of you who don't like fluff, there's also a chance of the next chapter being a bit gory… Anyway, Erik and Nadir are giving out free kisses to those who review! ((grins at Erik and Nadir, who are standing over to the side in chains, glaring at her))((blows them kisses))

And remember to IM me if you want "No One Would Listen" ! Thank you all for reading!)

—Hilary


	22. To Heal the Wounds

(A/N: I just finished watching the movie again… ((falls over crying)) I … hate… the ending! ((huggles Erik)) Poor Erik! So, for those of you who are just as upset and depressed over the ending as I am, here's a nice _kind_ of fluffy chapter. Lol, for those of you who said the last chapter wasn't really fluffy, you were right. It wasn't major fluff… but there was a teeny, tiny _hint_ of fluff in it. This one is a bit fluffier…and gorier. Remember; don't say I didn't warn you!)

(Um, okay, maybe a little bit more gory than fluffy...)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Two: To Heal the Wounds**

Neither of them said anything as Erik led Christine down back down the hall. After a little while, he stopped in front of a door, pulling a ring of keys out from a hidden pocket. Swiftly, he chose the right key, slid it into the lock, and turned it. The door clicked open, and the keys vanished once more.

Erik gently pushed the door open, letting Christine in first.

She stepped into a relatively small room, seemingly made smaller by the shelves that dominated three of the four walls. The shelves were piled with bottles of all kinds, with odd names on labels. Christine had to look at them for a while before realizing that they were different kinds of foreign medicine.

Erik sat down at the petite table in the middle of the room, watching her as she continued to examine everything. On one shelf, there were fresh bandages. With a quick look at Erik, Christine reached up and got them down. She also found a small basin, and brought that down as well.

She placed the bandages on the table in front of Erik, and then looked around for where to get the water. Suddenly she spotted a ditch full of water over in the corner. Christine bent down and examined it, and realized that Erik must have dug a kind of well, letting the water in so that he didn't have to walk all of the way to the lake when he needed some. This was smart, she thought, but she winced at the notion of using lake water to clean Erik's wounds.

As there was no other water, however, it would have to do. Christine carefully filled the basin to the brim, and carried it back over to the table, grabbing a cloth on the way.

She soaked the cloth in the water, and then looked up at Erik. He didn't meet her gaze. Slowly her eyes were drawn downward until they were staring at the object in the table between them.

Christine took a deep breath, and then lifted up the sharp silver knife, walking around the table to kneel beside Erik. "Give me your hands." she said, gently but firmly.

Erik placed his bloody hands in hers; not even flinching as she cautiously lifted the knife. She started with his left hand, using the tip of the knife to dig out the glass. The process was making her sick, but she got through the first few pieces without a problem.

When she got to the fifth piece, however, she noticed something that nearly made her heart stop. _Oh no…she couldn't…_ His skin had started to heal over the wound were the glass had entered.

She would have to cut him open to get it out.

Christine took a deep breath and placed the edge of the knife at the edge of the healed wound. She wanted to close her eyes, but knew that she couldn't. That was probably the most stupid thing possible to do.

Quickly, before she could think about it anymore, she slit the wound open with one stroke.

xxxxx

Erik watched as Christine struggled to remove the glass from his hands, wincing slightly as she did so. It wasn't the pain that made him cringe—after all, he had been through much worse than this—it was the look on her face. He could tell that the sight of his blood sickened her, and he was tempted to move away. She didn't have to do this.

"Christine…"

"Erik," her voice trembled, "Please don't speak…just let me finish…" she trailed off, shuddering as she made another cut.

Erik, for once, obediently went silent. He didn't want to distress her even more than she already was.

Finally, she finished getting all of the glass out of his left hand. She half dropped the bloody knife down onto the table, and grabbed the damp cloth. As gently as possible, she cleaned away the blood.

"Christine, there is a salve on the shelf to your left…second from the top. It will stop the cuts from bleeding so much. If you let me up…"

Christine hurriedly got out of his way, and he moved to rummage through the shelves, returning a moment later with a bottle full of thick, greenish-looking ointment. He removed the lid and began to awkwardly rub it into the slashes on his hands.

Christine almost instantly took the bottle away from him. "I'll do it." She delicately rubbed the salve into his hands in soothing little circles.

Erik closed his eyes, almost enjoying it. Hastily, however, he caught himself and opened them back up. She wasn't doing this because she cared for him; she was doing this out of guilt for something she didn't have any control over.

Finally, she finished and wrapped the fresh bandages tightly around his left hand. Then she moved on to the next one. She was shaking so badly this time that she accidentally made a few cuts in the wrong places. To his dismay, she began to cry.

"E-Erik I'm s-sorry… I didn't mean to… I…I…"

"Christine, do not worry about it. I've taken worse than this before…I can hardly feel it. You don't need to continue, if you do not wish to."

"No…I'm almost finished…I can't stop now." Trying to control her trembling hands, Christine continued to dig out the glass.

xxxxx

At long last, Christine completed the gruesome task and cleaned off his hand, checking once more for any glass she might have missed. To her relief, there wasn't any. She spread the salve onto his hand, and then bandaged it.

They both stood, Christine not even realizing that she was shaking all over. Without thinking, she threw her arms around Erik and clung to him, not noticing as he stiffened under her touch. Never in her life had she done anything like that before, and it had horrified her. She had rarely even seen blood, let alone touched it.

Erik uncomfortably tried to pull away, but Christine didn't let him. She hung onto him as if he was the last thing on earth. She was quivering even worse now, and it took Erik a moment to realize that she was crying again.

He hesitated, and then gently stroked her hair, amazed that she didn't flinch away. Instead, she snuggled closer. They stayed like that for a moment, until Erik bent down and, so lightly that she could hardly feel it, kissed the top of her head. Then he pulled away.

"Come, Christine, I shall take you back to your room. Tomorrow, I will return you to the opera."

* * *

(A/N: … yes, I know, another short chapter. The problem is, I have to update something else, too… But I think it's safe to assume that the next chapter, which will be up anywhere from tomorrow until Thursday, will be longer. PLEASE read and review! The faster you guys review, the faster I update. :) 

—Hilary


	23. Christine's Return

(A/N: Hey everyone! Happy mother's day! Thank you… ALL of you… SO much for the reviews! One day when I have time I'm going to respond to every single one of you. Unfortunately, I only have time to _just_ update, because I want to work on other things as well (…such as my history report, due tomorrow…) Lol, I just wanted to let you all know how much I appreciate them! Now, on with the story!)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Three: Christine's Return**

That night, Christine sat in her room, alone once again. To her surprise, she found herself longing for Erik to be there with her, singing softly or playing the violin, as he used to. How she wished she had never removed his mask! Looking back upon that time, she realized just how foolish she had truly been.  
When she recalled his face, she winced slightly. True, it was horrible…but was it as bad as she had made it out to be? It was possible that she had made it worse in her mind, simply because…however much she hated to admit it… she had still thought of him as her angel.

She had _known_, of course, that he wasn't… But his face had been the final factor. No angel could ever have a face like that… or a temper! If it was possible, in that moment, his temper had frightened her even more than his face had. He had always been so gentle with her before then…

Christine twisted a lock of her hair as she reflected on this. True, he had tricked her, kidnapped her, lied to her… but he had done so much to _help_! He had comforted her when she thought she would never be happy again, and reassured her when she had been frightened. He had given her something to look forward to…something to _live _for. He had gently pushed her until she became Prima Donna… her father's dearest wish for her! She knew for sure that he would never try to harm her, and knew just as certainly that she didn't want harm to come to him.

Christine changed for bed and lay back on the pillows. Perhaps she could give him one more chance… At least _one_ more chance to win her love…

What she wouldn't admit to herself was that he already had.

xxxxx

Erik sat down at his desk, carefully picking up his pen. He knew he had to return her tomorrow…she couldn't remain here forever. Still, he hated to let her go. Deep down, he was completely positive that she would never return to him if he did.

But he had to…there was no other choice. If he kept her now, after he had promised to let her go, she would hate him forever… allowing, of course, that she didn't already.

Erik sighed and dipped his quill in the customary red ink. He would give another note to the managers tomorrow, after he let Christine go.

For a moment, Erik paused as he leaned over the note, thinking. Then, ignoring the pain in his bandaged hands, he began to write.

_Christine Daae has returned to you…_

xxxxx

The next morning, Christine woke up and for a moment didn't recognize where she was. Her heart fluttered as she looked quickly around the room, trying to place it.

She had become so used to her room in Erik's home, that she had almost forgotten what her dressing room actually looked like.

Christine sat up in her bed, pushing the blankets off of her. Erik must have carried her back here sometime in the night. She felt a thrill go up her spine at the thought, wondering what it would have been like had she been awake.

As she walked back over to her desk, she looked at the one-line note that Erik had left her. It simply read, _"Goodbye, my angel."_

Christine shivered at the finality of the note. Certainly he was coming back?... He wouldn't leave her!

Suddenly she realized that the door to her room was open, and at that very moment Meg walked past. Christine smiled as she watched her friend freeze mid-step, and then nearly fall over doing a double-take.

"Christine!" A huge smile lit Meg's face as she sprinted into the room and embraced her friend. "Where were you? We were worried sick! Maman told everyone that you had gone to visit your grandmother, but then the Vicomte de Chagny went and checked, and your grandmother said she hadn't seen you in nearly a month! Honestly, I thought the Vicomte would have a heart-attack! He's very worried about you, you know. He was convinced that you were still somewhere in the building, too, because he said you had vanished while he was right outside of your door. He almost forced the managers to call the police and have them look through the building for you. The managers said that they had enough bad publicity as it was, though, and so they refused. Raoul came back this morning and—"

"Wait, he's here?" Christine interrupted quickly.

"Yes, because La Carlotta returned—"

"She did?"

"Yes, and someone gave her a note saying—"

"Who sent the note?"

"Well, it was obviously from the Opera Ghost, wasn't it? And it said—"

"What did it say?"

"I was getting there, would you let me speak?" Meg glared slightly, and Christine blushed.

"I'm sorry, go on."

"_Anyway_, Carlotta got a note from the Opera Ghost saying that if she tried to go back to being Prima Donna, a "great misfortune" would happen to her. She's _furious_…she's convinced that Raoul sent it, because he wants _you_ to keep being Prima Donna."

"Raoul didn't send it." Christine said firmly.

Meg looked at her curiously for a moment. "Well, _I _know that, but I didn't expect _you_ to. Who do _you_ think sent it, then?"

"The Opera Ghost." Christine told her friend softly.

Meg's eyes narrowed. "I thought you didn't believe in the Opera Ghost?"

"I was wrong."

Meg's face broke into another smile. "Well _finally_ you admit it! What made you change your mind?"

Christine turned away, unable to look Meg in the face. "You were right." she admitted, trying to keep her voice steady. "All of this time, you were_ right_…I should have listened to you in the first place."

"Christine, what are you talking about?"

"There is no Angel of Music."

There was a long pause as Meg put everything together. Finally, she gently laid a hand on Christine's shoulder. "I know."

Christine turned towards her, a question in her eyes.

Meg sighed. "I found out a little while ago that your Angel was actually the Phantom. I didn't want you to get angry at me, though, so I didn't say anything."

"How did you know?"

The ballerina hesitated for a moment. "Well…I…My mother kind of…knows him."

There was a silence as Christine registered this. "Madame Giry…she _knows_ Erik? Why didn't she tell me before? I could have—"

"Would you have believed her?"

There was another pause. "Well…no." she confessed.

"See? And besides, she didn't even tell_ me, _and I'm her _daughter_." Meg sounded sour about this. "Anyway, she wasn't happy that Erik was pretending to be your Angel. I mean, obviously she wasn't _happy_…but she was really angry at him. She said something to him…I forget what…something about him being a demon…Oh, I forget. Anyway, then he got angry and left."

Christine winced. Poor Madame Giry…and poor Erik! He got so touchy about that kind of thing…she was _sure_ Madame Giry hadn't been talking about his face…she was smarter than that.

"So where were you?" Meg demanded, cutting through Christine's thoughts like a knife.

"With…him. But Meg, please don't ask about anything else, I can't tell you."

Meg frowned slightly, then sighed and nodded. "Very well. Perhaps eventually, though?" she looked hopeful.

Christine smiled. "Of course."

She was about to continue, when suddenly she heard a very familiar voice.

"Christine! Oh Lord, Christine!" And then Raoul was in the room, his arms around her protectively.

* * *

(A/N: Uggh…_Raoul_. Lol, sorry for those of you who like him…I just…_don't_. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter! Thank you for reading, and please review!)

Hilary


	24. Jealousy and Deceit

(A/N: Well, the night is young, so I'm going to respond to all of you. I've wanted to do this for a while, I just never had the time. Prepare yourselves…this is going to be a little bit long…

**ILuvSnuffles805**** (Amanda):** I know…I wish that was the first line, too. Unfortunately, we aren't so lucky. ((sighs in disappointment))

**sisterhood-of-the-snake**: Lol! Don't worry, the update is right here! ((all you have to do is scroll down… and down… and down…))

**FOPKiller 15: **Yay! I'm glad you decided to review! I love hearing from everyone, and your opinions are really great to have. Thank you, and I hope you'll continue reviewing! I'm glad that you liked White Mask, too. :)

**a.e.migs: **Lol, it's okay that you didn't review. You did now, right?  
Lol, I'm glad that you're enjoying this so far, and I hope that you continue too!

**LadyAniviel**Lol, join the club… we have "BURN RAOUL!" T-shirts. and if you purchase a T-shirt now, you get a Raoul dummy, complete with miniature Punjab lasso to practice on, absolutely free! (but then, so is the T-shirt…)

Remember: it's okay to play with matches, as long as the only thing you catch on fire is Raoul. ;)

**aleema-darkrose1**Lol, so many people want me to kill off Raoul… tsk tsk, so violent!

((cackles and runs off to Punjab Raoul and burn the carcass))

Ahem. What was I saying? Oh yes. However much I'd like Raoul to die…rather painfully… I can't just kill him off. Like I said to someone else, he's part of the plot. (unfortunately…)

**Elanor Lightfoot**WOAH! You stayed up until 11:00 reading this? I'd of fallen asleep I'm so glad that you liked it! Thank you for reading!

…You mean, Erik really _doesn't_ play the violin for Phans until they fall asleep? Really?

Erik: Of course I do.

Hilary: Phew. I thought so.

**blue3ski**He makes my skin crawl too… ((Shudders and suddenly has the urge to take a bath)) Lol, I hope you enjoy this update, too!

**Lioness-Rampant**Lol, however much I really REALLY want to bash Raoul, it would be OOC, and I don't want that. He's not _stupid_… well, not _that _stupid, anyway… he's just a fop.

**Lost Romantic: **I know, I hate it when people make Erik perfect… he's _not_ perfect, and that's what makes him so… um… perfect? LOL! yeah, I like his darker side too. Ooh, Don't you just LOVE Michael Crawford's evil laugh? Lol…

**SelenityPotter**Aww, thank you! I'm glad that you enjoy this story… I know, there ARE a lot of Sue and OOC phics. Still, sometimes the Sue phics aren't too bad. An Eternity of This by Mandy the O is one of my favorites phics on here, and it has an original character. I'd also recommend Demons by Wandering Child and No Return by ChristineX

Thank you for adding my story to your favorites:)

**Kagome1514**Well, there really isn't too much E/C this chapter… But the next chapter! Lol.

OH, and I read In the Darkness, and it's COMPLETELY awesome! When are you updating? It'd better be soon!

**mlovektowsing**((Thinks)) …What holiday? …  
Lol, yeah, most people that read this story hate Raoul…and I'm not _really_ sorry that I do…I just said that ;)

**babymene17**I know… I always say that, too. OMG, don't you just LOVE the part where he falls into the water? In the movie theaters, the first time I saw that, I burst into laughter. My mom glared at me and whispered over, "Hilary! What are you laughing at? This isn't funny!"

I could only manage, "Yes…It…IS!" before bursting into more fits of laughter

Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy the update!

**Fallon: **Yay! I'm glad that you like it! Here's the next chapter for you. :D

**KeeperMusicNight**((glares at Raoul right along with you)) I know… I hate him too. --

Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad that you liked the last chapter! I hope you like this one as much.

**erik'sangel527: **Lol…I wouldn't be _writing_ this story if I did… Um… I mean, I wouldn't read this either if it were R/C…((facepalm)) Nevermind, I'm getting myself confused. ANYWAY.

Lol, yeah, Erik is DEFINITELY not gone for good. See this chapter.

And I know… 900 reviews! ((squeals)) I'm sooo happy! And thank you for still reviewing… sometimes people look at that and go, "Well, she doesn't _need_ anymore reviews…"

But I still love everyone's opinions!

**Dalamar Nightson** YES! YOU FINALLY UPDATED SHADES OF GREY! ((squeals and huggles you)) Ahem. Yes. I know. This is my fic, not yours…

Yes, to the amazement of all, there are ACTUALLY people who LIKE Raoul. They have a few problems, I think.

And as for if I'm going to kill Raoul at the end…

Well, I wouldn't tell you that, now would I?

**Madame Opera Ghost**((Strangles the fop)) Lol! Yes, another one of the people who review faithfully! Thank you so much! Here's the next chapter. :)

**Raoul Slayer: **Lol, however much I want to just have Raoul suddenly die a very, VERY painful death, I can't. Unfortunately, he's part of the plot. ((Sighs)) I know, it's not fair.**  
**

**Desiree: **You're KIDDING me! You're OUT OF SCHOOL ALREADY? That's SO not fair! ((glares slightly))

Lol, I'm glad that you like my story so far! Here's the next chapter, anyway, if I ever finish answering these reviews. ;) Wow, you read all of the chapters in LESS than an hour? That HAS to be some kind of record! I _would _IM you, but unfortunately I have AOL, not Yahoo. You can e-mail me anytime you want to, though. My e-mail is phantom.rose (at) juno (dot) com

**Ziroana**Lol, yay! Someone thinks it's exciting! It really isn't too exciting yet, I know, but it gets better, I promise. After all, there are at least 60 more chapters to go…

**angelic voice:** Lol, I'm glad that you liked it! Here's another one for you. :)

**Ceez** ((Sighs)) I HATE Raoul… But then, so do a lot of the people who read this story. It helps to share the hate. ;)

**Venus725**Ooh, I know! Raoul, even though I hate to admit it, was HOT in the musical on Broadway! In fact, the first time I saw it I kind of liked him because he was so cute… but don't worry, I learned to hate him rather quickly You still can't deny that he was cute, though. But Erik's MUCH better.

**Rosakara** I agree… He's such an idiot! ((whacks Raoul over the head with a loose floorboard she found somewhere)) Don't worry, I made sure it had some sharp nails still stuck in it… ((cackles evilly))

**Mini Nicka**Really? My summary comes up weird on your computer? That's odd… it doesn't on mine. What appears on your computer?

Anyway, I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of their feelings! That was one of the points of this story, and I'm glad you like it.

**Phan:** Here's the update for you:) Thank you so much for reading (and reviewing) my story! I really appreciate it! Some people who don't have names are lazy, and because they aren't registered they don't review. Thank you so much for taking the time to review even if you aren't!

**monroe-mary**((squeals)) I LOVE your long reviews! Lol, I just want to tell you know that I look at my reviews and go, "YES! monroe-mary reviewed! They're always so much fun to read, and I wanted you to know how much I appreciate them.

Yeah, no one likes Raoul much Well, at least not too MANY people…  
Yeah, this is usually the part with the anger and jealousy and death. I'm changing _some_ things, but not everything, so be prepared.  
Lol, I LOVE history, it's my favorite class…I just didn't feel like doing that report I know, horrible of me…

**RosePearl: **I know! I would have LOVED for Erik to carry me! Poor Christine… he actually _did _carry her and she was asleep. As for what I'm going to do with the storyline, it's kind of a variation of both of those. It will stick to the storyline _sometimes_, but there are other parts that weren't in it at all.

**Aislin of the Shadows**You know what? I tried spinning around in circles while singing that song. It only managed to make me sick, though. I had to lie down for a little while until I was feeling better. Lol! Thank you for reviewing, and …well, not so much for making me sick.

**Bondaged Vampiresa**((Shudders)) I know… I hate him… ((gags))

**longblacksatinlace**There's an "I don't like Raoul" dance? You're kidding! How is it done? I wanna learn it!

I know, he always _does _mess things up. ((glares daggers at Raoul))

I know, I feel bad for Christine… But hey, not _that_ bad… after all, Erik is in love with her. It can't get much better than that, can it? ;)

**I Despise Raoul** I just wanted to say how much I adore your name… I Despise Raoul. So simple. So perfect. Lol, I'm glad you like my story! Thank you for reviewing!

**Carolinus the Opera Ghostess**((huggles Erik)) Yes, Erik is _perfect_! Raoul, on the other hand... I hate him too. ((glares at him))

**fell4adeadguy: **((Runs off to get a toothbrush)) Yeah…He definitely leaves a bad taste in your mouth. You might want to grab the mouthwash for this chapter.

**friend5**:D Glad that you liked it! Thanks for reviewing so faithfully.

**Erik'sTrueAngel**((Gags)) I know! I wouldn't want Raoul hugging ME either! Thank you for reviewing!

((WELL! I'm finally finished! _That_ took long enough! Anyway, here's the chapter!))

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Jealousy and Deceit**

Erik's golden eyes blazed as he watched Raoul embrace Christine…_his_ Christine. Almost unconsciously, his hand crept to where the Punjab lasso was hidden. _The foolish boy would regret that he was even born if he just made one more move…_

Suddenly Erik realized what he was doing and hastily dropped his hand. Why did Christine have that effect on him? After all, she wasn't his… she never would be his. He _knew_ that… and yet, he couldn't seem to let her go.

The note he had written to her was a fraud, of course. He desperately _wanted_ to let her leave him, but he knew he wouldn't be able to. Just thinking about life without Christine threw him off into a rage that eventually ended in tears.

That's how this entire affair would end, he was sure. There was no possible way that his beloved angel would consent to stay with him. This… this _Raoul_ deserved her much more than he did.

If Christine went with the Vicomte, she could live a life of luxury. He supposed it would be full of light and beauty—the exact opposite of what she'd get if she stayed with _him._ And, of course, with the Vicomte she wouldn't have to be afraid of the dark. He'd be there to hold her, to…

Erik swiftly cut off his train of thought and turned away from the mirror. There was a lump in his throat, and his hands were clenched into fists.

No, no matter how good his intentions were, he _couldn't _let her go… She was _his_, and he would do _anything_ to keep her.

xxxxx

Christine lingered in Raoul's embrace for an instant, momentarily forgetting where she was. She could almost imagine she was back with Erik...

But no, this most certainly _wasn't_ Erik. Christine pushed away from Raoul quickly, blushing. "Raoul…it's nice to see you again."

"Christine, where were you?" he began instantly. "I looked everywhere! You just…disappeared!"

Christine managed a weak smile. "Raoul, don't be foolish—I went to visit my grandmother, but the carriage lost a wheel on the way there. I was forced to rent a room for a little while, until I could find a way to return here. I didn't have enough money to order another carriage, and it was too far to walk. Then just as my rent was nearly up, a kind lady offered to ride me back for free. She said that it was on her way anyway."

Raoul frowned. "But…but I heard your voice that night! Outside of your door—"

"Raoul, were you _spying_ on me?"

"N-no… I didn't _mean_ to…I just came back to take you to dinner—"

"Which I told you I didn't want." Christine cut in firmly.

Raoul either was too guilty to answer that, or genuinely hadn't heard her in his despair, "But the door was closed, and when I knocked no one answered. Then I heard voices…yours, and someone else's… I couldn't really hear it, it was too quiet. I called out your name, but still you didn't answer. Then, when I opened the door, you had vanished!"

Christine forced a dismissive look onto her face. "Raoul, you must have been imagining things. Either that or you heard echoes from another room. I told you what happened."

"Yes, but was it true?" Raoul asked sharply.

There was a moment of silence, and then Christine glared at him. "Of course it's true! Why would I lie to you?"

"Who knows?" Raoul returned, "Perhaps you were threatened? Christine, just answer me one question—who is Erik?"

Christine gasped audibly, unprepared for this sudden development. "E-Erik?" she cast a panicked look over at Meg, who was also frowning at Raoul. "I have…no idea what you're talking about…" Christine stuttered unbelievably.

"Oh, really?" Raoul pushed. He leaned close and gently laid his arms around her waist, his face bare inches from hers. "Who is he Christine? Has he hurt you?"

Christine mind was in a whirl as she scrambled for something to say. "N-no…he…he…"

"He's a friend of my mother's." Meg answered for her, gathering up her courage.

Raoul frowned and let go of Christine, turning to Meg. "_Really_? Then what was he doing in _Christine's_ room?" Raoul placed a defensive arm around Christine's shoulders.

"He wasn't." Meg answered, looking up innocently. "You must have heard my mother's conversation with him through the walls. This place is weird, sometimes…sound carries in odd ways. I assure you that Erik was meeting with my mother, and had nothing to do with Christine… by the time he had even arrived, Christine had left for her grandmother's."

There was a moment of silence as Meg and Raoul locked eyes. Meg held firm, however, and eventually Raoul was convinced. He sighed. "Very well. Christine," he turned back to her, "I'm very glad you are all right. It seems you've had a troublesome past few days…I'm sorry I only managed to make them worse. Can you forgive me?" He looked truly remorseful.  
Christine's smile was genuine this time. "Of course, Raoul. I know that you were only worried, it's all right…I'm sorry I was so jumpy, I just…have been under a lot of stress lately."

"I'm sure you have. Why don't you rest, and I'll ask the managers to let you have the day off? I'm sure that, under the circumstances, they'll let you go for a day."

"Oh, no, Raoul! Really, I'm fine."

"But I insist! I think you could use a day of relaxation. I'll make the arrangements immediately." he started for the door, and then paused. "And, perhaps…" he hesitated for a moment, before hurrying on, "Perhaps you could join me for dinner tonight? I mean… to celebrate your return, of course…I…"

Christine interrupted him before he could get himself even more confused. "Well, Raoul, I'm not sure…"

Raoul's disappointed look went straight to her heart. Well, why _couldn't_ she go to dinner with him? He _was_ her friend, wasn't he? And besides… Erik seemed to have deserted her…what harm could come of a simple dinner?

"Actually, Raoul, I'd like that. I'd like that very much." She smiled, and his eyes lit up.

"Perfect! Shall I pick you up at five, then?"

She nodded her assent.

"Five it is, then!" he hesitated for just a moment more, before crossing back over to her and pecking her on the cheek. Then he left.

Christine stood completely still for a moment, shocked. Finally Meg's voice brought her back to reality.

"I'd better be going, then. I don't want Maman to be angry at me for being late for ballet practice."

Christine blinked for a moment, and then suddenly her thoughts cleared. "Oh, Meg! Thank you so much for that excuse… I didn't know what to say…"

Meg grinned. "That's what friends are for, right? Just make sure next time you're more careful… I don't think I can lie like that again."

Christine smiled gratefully. "Thank you once more… and good luck with ballet practice. Apparently I won't be joining you."

"I think you really do need the rest, Christine. There are shadows under your eyes. You should use this time to catch up on your sleep. Anyway, I'll see you later?" It was more of a question than a statement.

Christine nodded, and she could have sworn that Meg looked relieved. "Goodbye, then!"

Then Meg left as well.

xxxxx

Erik seethed inwardly each time Raoul held Christine, but his anger turned to surprise when the boy announced that he knew Erik's name. Erik wasn't often surprised, and he didn't like the sensation much.

He watched anxiously as Christine stuttered, certain that any minute she was going to admit everything. What reason did she have to protect him, after all?

Then little Giry had cut in with a quick excuse. To his further amazement, the foolish Vicomte _believed_ Meg's lies. Erik let out a small sigh of relief. _Like mother, like daughter._  
He felt a slight pang of guilt as he remembered his last conversation with Madame Giry. He would have to do something to make it up to her…

This train of thought, however, was interrupted with a fresh wave of anger when Raoul asked Christine to dinner with him.

_But of course, she'll decline…_

He smiled as Christine began to politely refuse the Vicomte's request, but the smile froze when she stopped. He saw her eyes flicker to the note on her desk, and then watched as she hesitated. Finally, she smiled at Raoul and accepted his invitation.

Erik's hands clenched again. _How dare she? She was his, and she'd do well to remember that! _In that moment, he refused to listen to logic. He didn't want to acknowledge that it was probably his fault for writing the letter. _Besides_, he reasoned _He didn't say he'd let her go... she had only inferenced that!_

His anger flared out of control when the boy had the nerve to kiss Christine. His hand slipped back to the Punjab lasso, and he just barely restrained himself from bursting in and snapping Raoul's neck.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, then waited until little Giry had gone.

Then he reached for the latch on the mirror.

* * *

(A/N: Yay! An update! Sorry it took so _long_…I haven't been able to get on the computer for about three days. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this update, PLEASE review!)

Hilary


	25. Prima Donna

(A/N: You're all going to hate me… I took a potentially pluffy chapter and completely ruined it Whoops… Lol, oh well. By the way, you'd be surprised how many of you offered to take the Punjab lasso and kill Raoul _for_ Erik. It was actually pretty funny… All most every review said something along the lines of, "Don't worry, Erik, I'll do it for you!" ((takes the Punjab lasso and snaps Raoul's neck)) … Wow. We're so _violent…_)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Five: Prima Donna**

Christine jumped as there was a sound from behind her. For a moment she stared at her reflection, and then Erik was in the room with her.

It took her a moment to register this, and then her face lit up with a smile. "Erik! I thought you'd left me, I…" she trailed off when she met his gaze. He was angry…_ terribly _angry.

The color slowly drained from Christine's face. "Erik? What—"

"_Why_ did you except that boy's invitation to dinner?" he hissed at her.

Christine took a stumbling step backwards. "He's just a friend…I thought it was a nice request…"

"_He_ obviously doesn't view _you_ as 'just a friend'." Erik crossed the distance between them and moved to grab her arms roughly, then realized what he was doing and jerked back.

They stared at each other for a moment, and the anger slowly melted out of Erik's eyes. He turned away, already regretting he had come in. "Christine… I'm sorry… I meant to leave you alone…"

He was about to continue, but Christine placed a hand on his shoulder and gently turned him to face her.

"I'm glad that you didn't." she said softly. She only hesitated a moment before reaching up and removing his mask. Erik immediately wrenched himself from her grasp and tried to cover his face, but she stopped him.

Standing up on her tiptoes, she gently kissed his deformed cheek. It was only a small, chaste, friendly gesture, but it was still more than Erik was used to.

He immediately turned his face away, shocked and amazed that she had dared to do what even his mother had been afraid of. Christine stepped closer, but Erik took his mask from her hands and turned away.

"Very well, Christine… go with the Vicomte. Forget I was ever here. I shall try not to upset you further by coming again."

"Erik…no…wait, don't go—" but she was too late, and Erik had already disappeared beyond the mirror.

xxxxx

"'ow _dare_ you! Geeving _my_ part 'oo zat _leetle_—_leetle…_" Apparently Carlotta couldn't find a word bad enough for Christine, so she wrung her hands and screamed, "Zat leetle _toad_!"

"La Carlotta, please try to understand…we had no leading lady! What were we _supposed_ to do?" Andre pleaded.

"'Oo were_ zepposed _to cancel ze show!"

"But we had a _full_ house!" Firmin exclaimed, "We _couldn't_ cancel!"

"Yes, 'oo _could._" Carlotta turned on her heel and began to march out of the door. Firmin and Andre exchanged glances, before hurrying to catch up with her.

"But you are our Prima Donna! You cannot leave again!" Firmin exclaimed.

"Vatch me!" As the managers looked on, Carlotta made to leave through the door, but her hoop skirt was too wide for the frame. After moments of struggling, she managed to turn the hoop sideways, and fell through with a muffled thud.

Carlotta got up and brushed herself off, then glared at the managers as if it was their fault. "You're doors should bee _vider_." she informed them huffily. After brushing the wrinkles out their clothes, she straightened up and crossed her arms. There was a moment of silence, and then Carlotta said, "_Vell_?"

"Well what?" Andre asked, but was only met with a glare.

"_Vell_, vhat are 'oo goeeng to _do_?"

Andre blinked. "We'll bring someone in to fix the doorway right away." he assured her.

Carlotta seethed. "I didn't meen _zat_! I meen about _me_."

Andre speculated for a moment before saying, "Well, you _could_ go on a diet—" Firmin hit his partner over the head with a bundle of letters.

"Just shut _up_." he moved over to Carlotta. "Prima Donna…what would we do without you? We _need_ you…your _public_ needs you!"

"Vat about ze _toad_?" Carlotta demanded.

"No one wants _her_… she'll go back to being a chorus girl, as she should be. She just doesn't have the _voice_ to be Prima Donna."

Carlotta smiled, and was about to say something, when a suddenly Andre let out a loud moan. Firmin and Carlotta both turned and glared at him, expecting another inappropriate comment.

"What is it?" Firmin asked impatiently.

"Another _letter_."

Firmin paled considerably. "Let me see it!" He snatched the letter from his partner's hands, ripping it open.

His eyes scanned the note, and then he let out a derisive snort. "It's nothing. Just nonsense." With that, he tore the letter in half and dropped it into a basket of old mail beside their desk. Then he turned back to Carlotta.

"_Please_ my lady, be our Prima Donna once more! We are _nothing_ without you."

"_Vell_…" Carlotta seemed to consider for a moment, then announced, "Zince 'oo obfiouslee _need_ mee… af course I vill!"

Firmin looked relieved. "Brilliant! Now, let's talk about your new role…" as they headed down the hallway and out of sight, Andre peered over into the mail basket. He could just make out the blood red handwriting…

_If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur!_

Andre went white, and hurried after the other two. In his haste and distractedness, he ran straight into the door frame. Andre cursed and rubbed his nose, then glared at the offending piece of wood.

"You know, they really _do _need to make the doors bigger." He sidestepped, and then ran down the hallway to catch up with his colleague.

xxxxx

Erik collapsed in the darkness, his head in his hands. Why did he _always_ have to ruin everything? He remembered Christine's hurt expression as he vanished into the darkness, and sighed. It was better this way, anyway.

"Erik?" Christine's voice echoed through the passageway, and Erik sat up with a curse. Why couldn't she just let him let her go?

He got up and stealthily moved through the shadows. When Christine didn't find him, she'd turn back, he was sure. As he began to walk down the shadowy hallway, he suddenly heard something that made him stop dead in his tracks.

_Carlotta…_

xxxxx

Christine felt her way through the darkness, trying to find where Erik had gone. She knew she didn't have much chance of finding him… It was impossible to see in the complete blackness, and she didn't know where she was going. She couldn't go too far, or she would get lost.

As she stumbled through the darkness, she nearly ran straight into him. She could see his golden eyes narrowed to almost slits, and he was holding something in his hands. Christine crept closer, accidentally knocking a stone loose from the passageway. She looked up quickly, but Erik hadn't noticed. He was staring in the opposite direction, concentrating.

"Erik..." she felt the color in her face leave as the light from a small vent in the wall shed light on the object in Erik's hands. She stepped closer, hoping that she was wrong...but she quickly realized she wasn't. In his hands, he held some kind of noose...

* * *

(A/N: Yeah, I know, kind of short again, but I'm at school and I have to leave in a few seconds…) 

—Hilary


	26. More Secrets

(A/N: So… who's going to be the first one to try and Punjab me for making you wait so long? ((gulps and holds hand at level of eyes...(up against my face, not two feet away like Raoul does...))) I'm surprised I haven't gotten any death-threats… Anyway, I'm SO sorry for making you guys wait! You know how the end of the school year is… I've been smothered with project upon project -- Thank you for being understanding! Also, WELCOME to all of the people who are just joining me now. (Don't worry, I _do_ like long reviews, Dreamer…I was absolutely _thrilled_ when I got yours! ) Anyway, now for the update…)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Six: More Secrets**

_"Erik..." she felt the color in her face leave as the light from a small vent in the wall shed light on the object in Erik's hands. She stepped closer, hoping that she was wrong...but she quickly realized she wasn't. In his hands, he held some kind of noose..._

"Erik! Erik, what are you doing?" Christine ran up and touched his arm, and he turned to look at her, as if he had noticed her for the first time. His eyes burned with emotions that scared her, and she backed away slightly.

"Erik?"

His eyes closed for a moment, then reopened. The rage that had been in them a moment ago had vanished completely, as if it had never been there in the first place. When she looked down at his hands, she noticed that the noose was gone as well. Perhaps that had never been there either?

She brought her eyes up to meet his, and then asked the question that she knew she might regret. "What was that?"

xxxxx

Erik hadn't even seen Christine, he was so lost in his rage. In fact, he hadn't even realized that he had brought the Punjab lasso out from its hiding place. What had possessed him? His eyes darkened slightly as he remembered Carlotta. The _nerve_ she had to return!

"Erik? What was that?"

Erik frowned, before realizing that Christine wanted to know what the Punjab lasso was. He couldn't tell her the truth. When he looked back up at her, however, he realized he couldn't lie. To compromise, he decided to say nothing.

Christine was persistent though, and wouldn't let it drop. "Erik…Erik, look at me. What were you doing? What was that?" She stepped closer and gently took his arm, turning him back to face her when he tried to pull away.

"It was nothing, Christine. Forget about it." he finally said softly.

"But Erik—"

"Go back to your room. Meg will be worried if she comes back during lunch to check on you, and finds you missing. Go back."

"Erik…" Christine reached up and touched his unmasked cheek. "If I do, promise me that you'll come back."

"Seemingly, I cannot stay away."

That brought a smile to her face. Gently, almost shyly, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to hers.

Erik's eyes closed, and he let her get closer. Finally, her lips met his. They just barely brushed, like the wings of a butterfly. Then she got bolder, and pressed them harder against his.

To his amazement, he let her. He couldn't seem to pull away. It was as if he had suddenly lost his ability to move.

Christine took advantage of his helplessness, and closed all space between them, so that her body was resting against his. Her fingers entwined in his hair as she kept his lips down to hers.

To Erik, it was bliss and agony. He knew that he should stop her, that he should push her away, but he couldn't. He tried at the very least not to react to the kiss, but found himself kissing her back.

Moving as if in a dream, he carefully placed his arms around Christine and held her to him. She was so soft… Erik moaned quietly as he kissed her, and this seemed to encourage her.

When he felt her tongue meet the seam of his lips, he panicked. His mind shouted, '_What are you doing? Leave now, while you still can!' _But his body wouldn't listen. Instead of pushing her away, as he should have, he found himself parting his lips for her.

Her tongue explored his mouth, and he was powerless to stop her. Almost against his will, he felt the fingers of one hand fumble with the laces on her dress, the other buried deeply in her hair.

xxxxx

Christine didn't think twice about what she was doing. If she did, she might stop, and she didn't want to. She was vaguely surprised that Erik hadn't shoved her away by now, and yet thrilled that he hadn't.

Her heart skipped a beat when she felt him undo the ties on the back of her dress. His arms clutched her against him, and she didn't protest. Instead she dove deeper into his mouth with her tongue, urging him on.

"_Christine?"_ Raoul's voice echoed from her dressing room.

For a moment, Christine paused and listened to it, but she couldn't identify it. She brushed it out of her mind.

"_CHRISTINE!"_

xxxxx

Erik gasped and jerked away, stumbling back into the darkness. _What had come over him? _He looked back at Christine, who was now gazing in the opposite direction. Her eyes were wide in fear and panic.

"Erik! Oh, Erik, it's Raoul! What will he think? He'll call the police this time for sure…"

Erik held a finger to her lips, then delicately took her hand and led her down a side passageway. When they reached the end, he opened the trap door, and let Christine out into the hallway not a hundred feet away from her room. "Go back. Tell him you had just taken a walk, and that there's nothing to worry about."

Christine smiled in relief. "Thank you, Erik…" he turned to go, but she continued, "Will you still come for my voice lesson this evening?"

He looked away. "You have other…engagements." His voice was sour as he spoke of her dinner with Raoul.

She paused, and then said softly. "I'm suddenly not feeling well, and will be unable to make it."

He was glad that his face was turned away, so that she couldn't see the small smile that graced it. "Then I will be there." He closed the trapdoor behind him.

xxxxx

Christine hurried down the hallway to her room, hoping and praying that she would catch Raoul in time. As she ran, her thoughts wandered back to when she had first run into Erik in the tunnel. _Whatever he was holding, _she reassured herself, _it couldn't have been a noose._ _I must have been imagining things._

She nearly ran straight into Raoul as he left her room, a frantic look on his face. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Raoul ran and embraced her, a cry of relief escaping his lips.

"Christine! I didn't know what happened to you! Where did you go?"

Christine gently pushed him away. "I was just out for a walk, Raoul. There really isn't much to do in my dressing room."

He smiled and brushed a disheveled brown curl away from her face, then suddenly frowned.

"The laces to your dress are undone."

Christine could feel a hot blush forming on her cheeks. "Oh, I…well I must have…I must have forgotten to tie them." she stuttered, not meeting his eyes. Her cheeks were getting hotter by the second. "I hope no one saw that on my walk, at least it was short." She _hated_ lying to him.

Raoul chuckled amusedly. "I'm glad that I'm the one who noticed, then. Here, let me tie them for you."  
Christine hesitated, then obligingly turned and lifted her hair out of the way. In a matter of seconds, Raoul had it tied back up, and she turned around to face him again.

His eyes were twinkling merrily, and there was a smile on his face. "I can't wait until dinner tonight. Did you pick out what you're going to wear?"

Christine's heart sank. She hadn't been looking forward to this. "Oh, Raoul… I'm sorry, I can't."

His face fell. "But why not?"  
"I'm not feeling well after the trip. After all, I _did_ only get back early this morning. I was hoping I would start to feel better during the day, but it's only gotten worse. That's why I was heading back to my room. I'm so sorry, Raoul."

Raoul looked heartbroken. She could tell he had been really looking forward to this dinner.  
He looked so upset that she couldn't stop herself from saying, "Perhaps tomorrow night?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. Erik had been upset that she had been going to dinner with Raoul tonight…simply moving it to tomorrow night wouldn't make anything better.

Raoul, however, looked as if Christmas had come early. "Of course! I should have been more understanding, Christine." He kissed her gently on the forehead. "Tomorrow night, then."

Christine could only nod, and he backed up. "I have a meeting to go to with my brother. I'll see you soon!" Raoul quickly kissed her lips, and then left.

Christine walked back into her dressing room, and shut the door. Perhaps Erik hadn't heard the arrangement for tomorrow night. She could find out if he had or not this evening.

If he hadn't heard… well, what he didn't know couldn't hurt him, right?

* * *

(A/N: Once again, I'm sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter up. I hope that it was… semi-enjoyable. Lol, it was okay for a little while there… ((Sighs)) and then Raoul ruined everything. PLEASE REVIEW :) 

Hilary


	27. Secret Revealed

(A/N: Okay, I _was_ going to postpone this phic, but I changed my mind. Yeah, I'm an idiot, I know I was going to postpone it because I felt that it was almost taking over my life. Well, right now, I really don't have a life anyway so it doesn't matter. I probably won't be able to post as often as I used to, but I guess at least once a week is better than nothing at all, right? Anyway, I hope that everyone saw this. The next update will probably be tomorrow or the next day. I'll try :) (I'm busy tomorrow, I might not have time)

**Chapter Twenty-Seven: Secrets Revealed**

Erik was still so shocked and confused over what had happened in the passageway that he failed to hear Christine's conversation with Raoul. Normally, he heard everything that was going on, and wouldn't have missed it…especially since it involved Raoul and Christine. Instead of following her and listening to their conversation, however, he had wandered the passageways. Eventually, he found himself outside of the door that led to Madame Giry's room.

He sighed…this was as good a time as any to apologize to her. He wasn't good at apologizing, so he wasn't sure how he was going to go about doing it. Besides, what did he have to apologize _for_? Nothing. He had done nothing wrong, had he? Of course not. Erik turned and continued on back to his lair.

xxxxx

Christine counted the minutes until her lesson with Erik. The day seemed like an eternity, even when Meg was there to talk to during break. Every second was a minute, every minute an hour, and every hour a year.

She passed the time by singing a few of the songs she had learned, but eventually got tired and sat down to read. Sometimes while she was reading, she'd be sure a few hours had gone passed. Then she would look up at the clock expectantly, only to realize it had been minutes.

Eventually she fell asleep, the book still clutched in one hand.

xxxxx

Erik stopped playing the organ for a moment and turned to look at the candle he had that marked the hours. It was time for Christine's voice lesson. _Finally_.

He stood and brushed the wrinkles out of his clothes, then grabbed the violin and started off towards her room.

When he reached it, he paused a moment to catch his breath. Then he straightened up and looked inside.

Christine was lying sprawled out across her bed, fast asleep.

He smiled softly, and then quietly pressed the mechanism that opened the mirror, and stepped into her room. Noiselessly, he crossed it and stood beside her, gazing down at her sleeping form.

Suddenly taken by impulse, he knelt down beside her and reached out to smooth a few chocolate curls back into place. Then he delicately removed one of his gloves and gently touched her forehead. His fingers, just barely gliding over her skin, traced the outline of her face. They traveled across her eyelashes, and down the slope of her nose, treasuring each detail.

Finally, his fingers reached her lips. He hesitated, reassuring himself that she was sleeping. Then he moved his fingers across her lips, tenderly caressing them. He froze when she let out a small sigh, and then jerked back as if he had been touched by a hot coal.

After several long moments, he realized that she must have just sighed in her sleep, and returned his fingertips to her lips. They were so soft, so red…

Erik leaned over her, his face scant inches away from hers. What would it feel like for him to kiss her, instead of her kissing him? What would happen if he took the lead? Erik paused for a moment, making sure she was still asleep.

Then he leaned down and took her lips in his.

After all, what she didn't know couldn't hurt her…right?

xxxxx

Christine had half woken up when she had heard the distinct _click_ of the mirror mechanism. She kept her eyes closed, though. She had been having a good dream…

Slowly she began to wander back into unconsciousness, vaguely wondering what time it was, and what was touching her hair. She was jerked back into reality, however, when she felt his hand touch her forehead.

Christine lay completely still as his hands traveled across her face. Did he know she was awake? Probably not. That was the only thing that she could think of that would explain his boldness. At all other times, if she didn't take the lead he seemed almost afraid to touch her.

Hence, she decided to feign that she was sleeping. She didn't want to scare him away again, and she was nearly certain that if he knew she was awake, he would stop.

When his fingers touched her lips, she couldn't stop herself from letting out a gasp. She regretted it, for instantly he jerked back. Hoping that he would resume his caresses if he thought she were still asleep, Christine lay motionless again, her breathing even.

As she had hoped, his fingers returned to her lips a moment later. It was all she could do to keep silent as she felt him draw nearer. Then his fingers were gone, and she could feel his warm breath on her lips in their place. He was so close… she wanted to reach up and pull him down to her, but restrained herself. _Kiss me, _she urged him, _Please kiss me…_

The suspense was beginning to kill her. She couldn't take this much longer…

Finally, she felt his soft lips on hers, and had to stifle a moan of pleasure. For a while he kissed her, gently massaging her lips with his own. She didn't want him to stop, and had to control her urge to hold his head down to hers. Then he did something she didn't expect.

Christine just barely prevented her eyes from flying wide open when she felt his tongue run across her bottom lip. It felt like warm velvet, supple and surprisingly moist against her dry lips.

She couldn't breath, fearing that if she did she would let out some sort of sound that would tell him that she was awake. Eventually she had to take a breath, or she would suffocate herself. Her breathing was slow and painfully controlled at first, but then became rapid and uneven. She could only pray he didn't notice.

Apparently he didn't, for a moment later he began to nibble delicately on her bottom lip. Christine's hands gripped her sheets tightly. She was using every bit of self-control that she had not to whimper with delight.

Abruptly Erik bit down hard on her bottom lip, but instantly sucked on it to dull the pain. Christine was surprised that she hadn't made a noise, but she suspected that by now, she couldn't.

She wondered briefly why Erik hadn't realized that surely, even if she _had _been asleep to begin with, she would be awake by now. No one could sleep through this. Every one of her senses was telling her to wrap her arms around him and never let him go, but still she kept herself still.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Erik pulled away, and Christine felt cold without the heat of his mouth on hers. The knock repeated itself, and at the same time she heard the quiet click of the mirror closing.

When the knock repeated for a third time, Christine opened her eyes and sat up. "Come in."

The door opened just enough for Meg to slip inside. "I just wanted to wish you goodnight. I didn't realize you were sleeping already. I'm sorry to have woken you."

Christine felt like throwing her book at Meg in irritation. She forced herself to take a few deep breaths. It wasn't Meg's fault…she didn't know what she had interrupted. "It's okay, Meg, I—" she was about to tell her friend that she wasn't really asleep anyway, but her eyes darted over to the mirror. "I probably would have gotten up anyway."

Meg nodded. "Goodnight, Christine."

"Goodnight."

Meg slipped back out of the door, and shut it behind her.

Christine sat in silence for a moment before speaking to the darkness. "Erik?"

"I'm here, Christine."

Christine smiled inwardly. _Oh, she knew._

"I'm sorry I fell asleep…why didn't you wake me?"

There was an awkward silence. "I was late. I only just got here."

She felt like bursting out into laughter at his somewhat unbelievable excuse. Erik was _never_ late.

"Are you ready to begin, then?"  
"Of course."

xxxxx

The rest of the lesson went as it normally did, until the very end. Before Erik could leave, Christine hesitated and then asked, "Erik…about that dinner I had scheduled with Raoul…"

There was a suddenly cold silence, and then, "Yes?"

"Well, I canceled it for tonight, as you know…but…"

"But?"  
Christine was about to tell him, but then stopped. Obviously, he hadn't overheard their conversation. She was slightly surprised—she thought he heard everything—but pleased with her good fortune. She didn't have to tell him, and tomorrow night, this would all be over.

"What were you saying, Christine?"

"I just… felt guilty, that's all. I don't like lying to him." …_Anymore than I like lying to you…_

"That's all?"  
"Yes."

"Don't worry about it, ma chérie; the Vicomte will get over it."

She nodded. "I suppose he will."

"Goodnight, ma chérie."

"Goodnight, Erik."

xxxxx

Christine was relieved at finally having a normal day of practice. It helped get her mind off of that night. She was worried that Raoul would tell someone…and for sure, Erik would overhear. He wouldn't miss hearing about it twice.

After practice, Christine changed out of her ballet outfit and into a semi-nice dress. It was one of the better ones that she owned. She wanted to look nice for this outing, even if it wasn't really a date. Was it?

She glanced at the hour candle. It was almost time to go. Christine winced…why was it that when she was waiting for something, the waiting seemed to take an eternity, but when she was dreading something it went by in a blink?

What seemed like a few minutes later, there was a knock on her door. Christine quickly opened it, walking out passed Raoul. She motioned for him to move quickly. Raoul frowned at her odd behavior, but did as she wanted anyway.

Christine didn't stop to rest until they were at his carriage. Every bend she had been expecting to run into a furious Erik. Now, however, she was beginning to hope that he would never find out about this.

Her hopes were in vain.

xxxxx

Erik watched Christine and the Vicomte step into the carriage, eyes blazing. Now he knew what Christine had been going to say to him the night before… She _hadn't_ canceled her dinner with Raoul after all…she had simply moved it to another night.

He gritted his teeth. How _dare_ she lie to him! He had trusted her, and she had betrayed him. Erik closed his eyes and took a breath, attempting to control his rising temper. Christine must have had a reason for not telling him…

'_She damn well had a reason!' _His mind shot back angrily, '_She thinks she can get away with it! She tricked you into believing you could trust her so that she could escape! She doesn't love you…she never loved you! She thinks that she can deceive you twice.'_

His eyes now burned hotter than fire.

_He'd show her._

Erik stalked down the passageways and left the Opera House through a side door, his cloak billowing behind him, and his hand clutched around the end of the Punjab lasso…


	28. All Alone

(A/N: Well… Let's just say, I know you all hate me right now. I'm SOOO sorry! For a little while… (a …couple of weeks…maybe months…) I was completely sick of and really didn't feel like updating anything. Actually, the first week or two I had an excuse—Projects, finals, and then I went to Pittsburgh. But yeah, I could have updated sooner… I'll try to update whenever I can now, but I got into a program at the Fulton Opera House, and that takes up a lot of time… ahh, well, I'll try… I_ promise_… REALLY!

**Ravenmyst**:… umm… I wasn't reading Happily Ever After! I wasn't! That was… someone else logged on in my name! Lol, it's funny, I was actually working on an update when I … _didn't_… read that… Well, I was _trying_ to. :)

Oh, and **Kigono**…I'm sorry I couldn't make it to your funeral. (read your last review if you don't understand this!)

Oh, but wait, one last note… It's been a while, **monroe-mary**, but I haven't forgotten… ((sticks out hand)) You lost the bet. Now cough it up!

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: All Alone**

Christine looked around uneasily as they got out of the carriage. She felt as though she was being watched… and she didn't like that at all. Erik wouldn't follow her here…would he? _'Yes, he would…'_

"Christine? What's wrong?" Raoul asked concernedly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She pulled away, and then took a deep breath.

"Raoul… maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. I… I want to go back."

"_What?_" Raoul stared at her. "Christine, I brought you all of this way, and now we're going to have dinner! Come on, what's bothering you? You were never like this before!"

"What do you mean, before? From when I was a child? Raoul, you hardly know me anymore—"

"That's the point of having dinner with you! I _want_ to get to know you again, Christine… and, well, I had thought that you wanted to get to know me better again. Was I really so wrong about you?"

Christine gave him a pained look. "Raoul… there was a time when maybe this might have worked… but I…"

"You're not even giving me a _chance_." Raoul interrupted, getting slightly angry now. "Please, Christine… Just dinner tonight, and if you really don't want to see me again, I'll leave you alone. Fair?"

Christine bit her lip, and then nodded.

xxxxx

Golden eyes followed Raoul as he led Christine into the diner. _Idiot boy… he'd pay for this!_

Erik slipped into the diner a good while after them, keeping to the shadows. He got a few odd looks, but at least no one said anything. Making sure to stay as far out of the light as possible, Erik moved so that he had a better look at their table.

Christine appeared uneasy, but Raoul looked like he was having the time of his life. Turning his gaze away from the grinning Vicomte, Erik focused on Christine. Her eyes flitted about in the corners of the room… almost as if she expected him to be there. He smiled slightly—good, she was starting to understand.

Erik looked back at Raoul, his grip tightening around the Punjab lasso. How easy it would be to rush in and snap the boy's neck! But then he imagined Christine's reaction, and he hesitantly put the Punjab away. No, this wasn't the time to kill off the Vicomte. He had let his anger control him too much.

Erik took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He would let them go… at least for the night. When Christine got back, however, he would certainly have to talk to her about this… or maybe not. Maybe he would just let _her_ come to _him_…

xxxxx

Christine stepped out of the carriage and, without waiting for Raoul to say goodbye, hurried up the stairs before the Opera House. _How angry was Erik? Would he be able to understand?_

"Christine!" Raoul cried after her, but she didn't even turn. He began up the steps, and then stopped. He _had_ promised her he'd let her go, hadn't he? Reluctantly, the Vicomte turned and began walking back down to his carriage. Without a backward look, he got inside and told the driver to take him home.

xxxxx

Christine waited for Erik to come in her dressing room that evening, but he never did.

The next morning when she awoke to find that she was still alone, she began to worry. Was he _that_ angry at her? Did he never want to see her again? She debated going to him in his lair, but then decided against it. Perhaps he just needed some time to cool off…

Finally she decided that if he still hadn't come to visit her by the end of the week, she would have to seek him out. She was certain that he would talk to her by then…

The days passed slowly, and Erik never appeared.

At the end of the week, they were going to have another performance. This time, however, since Carlotta was back, she was going to play the lead role. Christine had been given a smaller, less important role, but was still happy with it. It was more than she had ever had before, anyway. At least she wasn't back in the chorus!

The rehearsals went without a hitch, and the performance promised to be a good one, even if Carlotta had the lead.

Andre and Firmin had never been happier… until they received the letter. Once again, it was from "O.G," and once again it was ordering them to give Christine the lead role.

"Firmin…" Andre began hesitantly, "Maybe we should just give the girl the role… she _does_ have a good voice."

"And lose La Carlotta? She wouldn't put up with it…you _know_ she wouldn't! As soon as the girl got the role, she'd throw a temper tantrum and never come back. Is that what you want?" Firmin retorted angrily.

"Well…no, I suppose not. But what about this _O.G._ person? Surely they're going to do something horrible if Daae doesn't get the role."

"We'll see about that. Personally, Andre, I have a feeling that this 'disaster' is just an empty threat to get us to do what he wants."

"Maybe…" Andre allowed, "But what if it isn't? What if this madman is actually serious about it?"

Firmin looked as if he were about to say something, and then shrugged. "We'll just see what happens."

xxxxx

Christine changed into her new costume for the opera, glancing hesitantly at the mirror. She had debated on going to Erik before the performance, but there was just no time. Promising herself that she would go to see him afterwards, she finished pinning up her hair and went to meet Meg backstage.

xxxxx

Raoul had sworn to himself that he wouldn't go back to the opera, but found that he couldn't resist. He needed to see her, just _one _more time! He knew by now that all of the seats would be sold out…

All but one.

* * *

(A/N: WHOO-HOO! I UPDATED! It took forever to write this chapter, simply because it was SO boring and NOTHING happened. Gah, I know it was probably as boring to read as it was to write, but it was a necessary chapter. The next chapter, which will be up sometime this week, will be a lot better, I promise! Almost all of it is from Erik's viewpoint, too, so you get to see what was happening to him… Okay, well, I know it was boring, and really short, but at least I updated, right:)

Hilary


	29. Il Muto

(A/N: ((glances nervously around)) soooo… how's everyone been? ((everyone previously reading this story gather closer, all fingering Punjab lassos)) ((Coughs nervously)) Heh… so... um… Did you all have a nice holiday? ((everyone continues to get closer)) ((backs away)) Hey, spare me! I'm sick today! ((No one seems to really care))

((Runs))

…

((Hiding in a cave somewhere far, far, away with a computer, where no one can find her.)) I'll just write this from _all the way_ out here, shall I?

Okay, this chapter is really short, but I wanted to get something up for you guys. It's also not overly exciting. However, I _probably_ will have the next chapter up tomorrow, and then will try to update once a week after that. I can't apologize enough about the lack of updates between the last chapter and this one, and also for how crappy this chapter is. But I just wanted to put up something quick that sets the stage for the next chapter. Hopefully that's okay. :)

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Il Muto**

Christine stood backstage with Meg, fiddling absent-mindedly with her costume. Tonight's performance of _Il Muto_ promised to be a good one. Carlotta's voice was as ear-piercing as ever, of course, but not _quite_ as bad as usual. The ballerinas had worked especially hard on their dancing… it might not be perfect, but it was pretty close… and the chorus had been doing even better than they had been before!

So why was it Christine had such a bad feeling about tonight?

Christine tried to shake it off. Maybe it was just because she wouldn't be singing tonight… or perhaps because she hadn't seen Erik in a week.

_Erik_… That was the reason, she was sure. He was, in essence if not in reality, her Angel of Music… how would she make it through tonight's performance without him?

'_Of course,' _she thought bitterly, _'It's not as though I'm actually going to be singing anything…'_ Christine had been given the part of the page boy—the silent role. She had a sneaking suspicion that Carlotta had something to do with that. Still, Christine reminded herself, at least she was in the performance at all!… She didn't know what would happen to her if she didn't have her job at the Opera House.

Meg nudged her slightly, a worried look on her face. Christine realized that she had been so lost in her own thoughts that she had nearly missed the queue for her entrance. She gave Meg a grateful look, got into character, and then walked onstage.

The first thing she noticed was Raoul. He was seated in one of the boxes, which wasn't odd… but a warning rang at the back of Christine's head and she couldn't figure out why. She brushed it aside… this wasn't the time to dwell on it.

º٭†٭º

Meg peeked out through the curtain, watching what was happening on stage. Tonight was running perfectly—it was probably the best performance of Il Muto they'd ever done. Meg grinned as the audience laughed and clapped at something that was said onstage. The audience loved it…that was a good sign. The grin still plastered on her face, her gaze traveled upwards. Then, abruptly, the smile vanished.

_Was that the Vicomte in the ghost's box? Didn't he know that box five was reserved for the Phantom on opening night?_ Meg had a feeling that it wouldn't end well…

As if on queue, a soft, deadly voice cut through the dialogue on stage. _"Did I not instruct that box five was to be kept empty?"_

Both the stage and the audience immediately quieted, holding their breath for what was to come next…

º٭†٭º

Christine's head snapped up at the sound of Erik's voice. It was the first time she'd heard it in a week, and at first she was thrilled. _Erik!_ "It's him… I know it, it's him!" she whispered, not even aware she was speaking.

"Your part ees silent, leettle toad!"

"A toad, Madame? Perhaps it is _you_ who is the toad!" Erik's voice was scathing, brimming with barely controlled rage. Christine subconsciously took a step backwards at the anger in his voice. She recognized the tone he was using, and was immediately transported back to the night when she had removed his mask…

Except now…now there was no remorse mixed in with the anger. It was just pure, unmanageable rage. Christine fought with the temptation to run offstage and lock herself in her dressing room. _As if that would help…_

Her only condolence was that his anger was not at her this time. Christine's worried gaze traveled to Carlotta, who looked almost comical in her anger. _No_ one, Christine was sure, had ever called _her_ a toad before! Carlotta turned on Christine. "You! Back into position!" And then she went back to the beginning of the song that Erik had interrupted.

She was brave, Christine thought, you had to give her that. She threw one last glance in the direction that Erik's voice had come from, and then moved back into place. _Please Erik, let it go. Ignore her._ For a few moments, Christine thought that he would.

Then Carlotta croaked.

In the literal sense, of course. She had been singing as normally as before when suddenly she let out a horrible rasping sound. There were several gasps from the audience. La Carlotta was well known and renowned, and never—_never_—had something like _this_ happened to her!

Carlotta, who was pale with shock and fright, took a deep breath and went back to the part where she had messed up. Christine stood frozen, watching her. Everyone was waiting to see if she could regain herself…

"She's singing to bring down the chandelier!" Erik's voice rang from all directions, his normally beautiful tone now mocking and terrifying. Christine looked breathlessly up at the chandelier that hung above the seats. It was swaying dangerously, the crystals chinking slightly as they knocked together.

Carlotta kept singing, as if to defy him with her voice. She got louder as she went up the scale, nailing each of the high notes perfectly—

Then it happened again. The terrible croaking sound emitted from her mouth instead of the note she was supposed to hit. Carlotta cut off what she was singing again. She was crying now, and Christine actually felt bad for her. Several people in the audience were laughing, and she would have thought that the situation was funny too, had she not been a singer. She knew the consequences of messing up onstage before an audience. Carlotta was going to have to work hard to regain the prestige that she'd once had. For now… she was a laughing stock.

Christine's heart went out to the other woman as she ran off the stage, in tears. Dimly, she heard people talking loudly and above all, that terrible, beautiful voice laughing maniacally. One of the managers shouted something, and before she knew what was going on, Andre pulled her center stage.

"We will continue in a moment with Ms. Daae playing the part of countess." He said quickly, "Until then, we are proud to give you the ballet from act three!"

Christine was led dazedly offstage to change into her new costume as the ballet dancers rushed on, all frantically trying to get into position as the music started up.

She was almost to the changing room she was given when there was a terrible scream from onstage...

* * *

(A/N: As I said, this chapter is very short, and not that much happens. Still, I wanted to get something up for you guys just to show that I haven't quite abandoned this yet. I'm going to try to get chapter thirty up tomorrow, I just didn't have time tonight to make this chapter as long as I wanted to. I'm sorry again about the shortness… I'm just happy that I _finally_ updated! Whoo-hoo! I think from now on I should be able to update about once a week… unfortunately, that will have to be enough for the moment. Lol, that's still better than once a year, right?

Hilary


	30. Destruction

(A/N: I'm back. Finally. First, I want to make a HUGE apology to all of you, even if you guys never get to read it. True, life has been hectic lately, but I probably should have been able to update a _little_ bit more than I did. Anyway, now that my summer job is over and my grandmother isn't in the hospital anymore and my relatives aren't visiting, I should be able to update! Yay! I don't even remember what's going on. I'm going to have to reread it. Again. -- Oh well…)

* * *

**Chapter Thirty: Destruction **

"Christine!"

Christine had barely taken a step towards the stage to see what was going on when she heard her name being called by a familiar voice. She spun around just as the Vicomte reached her, looking pale and shaken.

"What's going on?" she demanded immediately, trying to keep her voice steady. It wouldn't do her any good if she panicked now. After all, just because someone had screamed didn't mean that anything bad had actually happened… maybe one of the ballerinas had seen a mouse…

Christine had barely begun to hope that this was the case when her hopes were shattered. Other people were screaming now, too. They sounded terrified, and suddenly Christine didn't _want_ to know what had happened.

Raoul gathered her up in his arms and held her close. "The Phantom killed Joseph Buquet." he murmured quietly, trying not to frighten her any more than she already was.

"What?" Christine pulled away abruptly, startled. "No… I… It can't be true. E—The Phantom wouldn't do something like that!" _Yes, he would._ Christine swallowed and tried to ignore her inner voice. She wouldn't allow it to be right. It couldn't be.

Raoul gave her an odd look. "The Phantom is a madman, Christine. This proves it. Buquet is hanging from the rafters with some kind of weird rope around his neck, and—"

He was broken off by Christine's ragged gasp. When he looked at her, her eyes were distant, as if she were remembering something.

"Raoul… Raoul, we have to get out of here. We have to find somewhere safe."

º٭†٭º

Christine dragged Raoul up the many staircases that led to the roof, her heart in her throat. Any minute, Erik could find them. And he'd want Raoul dead, she was sure of it. After all, wasn't he the one that Erik was angry at in the first place?

Christine trembled as she recalled the night Carlotta had come back. Erik had stood in the passageway, and _in his hands, he held some kind of noose..._ She remembered that at the time she had completely dismissed it. She had convinced herself that she was seeing things. Now, she knew she had been right.

_He killed someone. He killed Buquet…Oh, God, he's a murderer…_

Not that she hadn't guessed. With a room like the one she had accidentally stumbled into in his house, she had known that it was probable that he had killed people in the past. But that didn't change the fact that he had killed someone _now_.

Christine choked back a sob as they reached the roof. She had to calm down… she had to calm herself and think. After all, maybe… maybe it had all been an accident. Maybe she was wrong, and Buquet had tripped and gotten tangled in the ropes. She wouldn't condemn Erik yet… she couldn't. And yet… the chances of it being purely an accident were slim. Christine's head was pounding and she realized for the first time that there were tears running down her cheeks. She took a few deep breaths, hoping that she wasn't overreacting. _Overreacting to someone being _killed _Killed by the man that you thought you loved?_ Christine managed a wry smile. She doubted she could overreact to something like that.

Her throat hurt, and there was a pain in her chest where her heart was. She didn't know what to think… she needed to talk to someone. _Anyone_. And it certainly couldn't be Erik…

Christine noticed for the first time that Raoul was holding her arms and gently stroking her hair, trying to comfort her. He was obviously confused over her terror, and wanted to help. She bit her lip. He was her friend, and he was here for her. She had to tell him…

"Raoul…" her voice came out in a strangled croak, and she felt as if she were betraying the man who had helped her come so far. Still, she continued, "Raoul… do you remember Erik?..."

º٭†٭º

Not ten yards away from where Christine stood with Raoul, a dark figure hid in the shadows of a nearby statue. In one gloved hand it held a delicate rose. The thorns dug through the glove and into flesh as the figure listened to the young woman betray everything to the Vicomte. Finally, it turned away, unable to listen anymore.

º٭†٭º

Unknown to any of the other three, another figure hid in the shadows of the opera house. Nadir watched as Christine confessed everything that had happened to her to Raoul, and as Erik listened to every word she said. He wanted to do something… to stop the inevitable storm that was to come. Instead, he stood helplessly and watched as each person destroyed the other.

º٭†٭º

There was a moment of silence as Christine finished telling her story. Raoul just stared down at her for a second, not sure what to say. Finally, he managed, "Christine… why didn't you tell me before?"

Christine looked up at him and said quietly, "I was scared. Scared of what Erik would do to you if he knew… and scared of what you would do to him, if _you_ knew. I do love him, Raoul." She hesitated. "At least, I did once. Very much. Now… I'm not sure. I'm so confused… I want to talk to him, but I … I can't. Not after…" Christine bit off the rest of her sentence.

"I'll tell you the truth, Christine. I'm not sure what to think. I know that I don't like the fact that you're in love with a murderer and, to be quite frank, I think you should leave the opera house and get as far away from him as possible. Still…" he took a deep breath, "That's…not my choice. It's yours." Raoul sighed and stroked her hair, "I wish it was me you loved, Christine…"

Christine smiled slightly. "I do love you, Raoul… just not in that way. You're like my older brother, my best friend." The smile faded. "I'm sorry I don't love you in the way you want me to, though.

Raoul tried to grin, "You can't help it if you don't love me. Here, I want to give you something." Raoul dug a hand in one of his coat pockets and pulled out a box. Christine looked at him suspiciously. "Yes… it's what you think it is. But not like that… not anymore. I originally was going to ask you to marry me." Raoul winced, "But I know better now. Still, Christine, I want you to have this ring… if just as a reminder of our friendship, and that I'm here for you if you need someone to turn to."

Christine smiled softly, and reached out and took the ring.

º٭†٭º

When Erik finally turned back to the two young people standing nearby, he saw Raoul holding out and engagement ring.

And then he saw Christine accept it.

Erik froze, shock numbing his entire body. No… she couldn't! Not after everything she had told him… not after she had _promised_ she loved him!

_Lies_. _All lies_. Erik backed into the statue, his earlier rage slowly returning. It burned away the surprise and hurt, warming his blood and allowing him to move again. He watched, seething, as the Vicomte took Christine's hand and led her back inside.

Erik looked down at the rose he had selected to give Christine that evening. That was before everything had gone wrong… Slowly, he crushed the blossom, uncontrollable rage flooding through him.

The Vicomte would pay.

They would _both _pay.

Erik's black cape whirled around him as he turned and glared up at the night sky, the rose still smothered by his fist. Then, slowly, he let it drop.

What was left of the rose fell to the ground...

Destroyed, like everything else.

* * *

(A/N: WHOO HOO! An update:D Not a very good update… I'm a little rusty, so I'm sorry if it's not up to par. ((winces)) I'll try to fix it later, but the content will be about the same. Oh well. It wasn't a particularly fun update, either.

Okay, well, no promises on when the next update will be. I'm getting sick of saying, "Don't worry! I'll update tomorrow!" and then never getting to it. I have to update a lot of other stories, too… some I'm going to update tonight. When I'm finished the other ones that I want to update, I'll update this again. I _think_ it will be pretty soon. Probably this week. I'm free until Friday….

However, that's the very thing I wanted to warn you guys about. Unfortunately, I'm going to Pittsburgh for about a week on Friday. So, hopefully, I'll be able to update once or twice again before then. I'll certainly try.

If not, I'll work on updates while I'm bored at Pittsburgh

I'm sorry again, guys, and if you don't want to continue reading this… well, I deserve it.)

Hilary


End file.
